Perilous Journey of the Much-Too-Spontaneous Girl (30 page)

“Did they tell you about—her?” she said.

He took them from her and turned them over in his hands, peering at them as if they were some sort of strange new contraption. “Where did you get this?” he whispered.

“I found them in Captain Douleur’s cabin,” Marguerite pointed up to the
Dragon
. “I thought I recognized the script when I first found them, but there was no time to read them. It was only later when I realized that I recognized it because it was your handwriting.”

“Marguerite, are you saying what I think you are saying?”

She nodded her head. “I believe my mother is alive.”

Her Father took his monocle out again and wiped it off with a handkerchief. “My dear girl. We must talk through this. Maybe not tonight, as you look completely worn to the bone, and I know you are worried about Outil, but soon. We will speak of all of it soon.” She nodded again and wiped her face on the handkerchief he now offered to her.

“Did you know? Did you have any idea?” She searched his face for any hint of a lie.

“No. I had no idea where she was, honestly. I paid various men to track her for several years, but after losing her in the pirate-infested Indies, I figured she was gone for good.” He placed the letters in his vest pocket and took her hands.

“Let’s go up to my ship. You can rest there.”

“That sounds very appealing,” she said. And father and daughter caught the next lift back into the sky.

Marguerite hadn’t slept in the past few days. She wondered if she would ever sleep again. Lucy joined her in the night and the two played cards and talked until Lucy finally returned to her own cabin before dozing off. Marguerite lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying everything she’d been through in the past few weeks.

She thought about all of her stupid decisions, some of her more daring successes, and she tried not to think about Captain Douleur. She decided she would refuse to associate her with the word
mother
. The woman was a beast. When she allowed herself to dwell on their encounter, she shuddered at the comparison her father made in the library not so long again in Montreal. Was she really just like her mother? Was there some sort of magical tie that bonded a child to its parentage even when they are not raised by their hands? Could all of these desires to be daring and to travel be in her blood?

A tapping at her door early in the morning brought her away from this morbid train of unanswerable questions. Marguerite was so fatigued and so used to having Outil answer her door and filter the visitors for her that she hadn’t thought before calling out, “Come in!”

The latch turned and Jacques stood in the doorway, the morning sun shining in through her porthole onto his greasy clothes and jubilant expression. “I have wonderful news. Claude worked through the night with the parts we found on the
Dragon
, and Outil should be functioning again this afternoon.”

Marguerite sat up, gathering the covers about her chest in an attempt at modesty. “That is marvelous!”

This happy news was just what she needed to pull her mind away from all of her troubling ancestral thoughts. She smiled at Jacques who suddenly registered the situation and Marguerite’s clothing—or lack thereof.

“Oh, dear. So sorry. I’ll be back later,” he whispered and started to close the door.

“No,” Marguerite reached out for him. “Please come here, for just a moment. Hand me my shawl.” Jacques looked at the floor and smiled. Then he looked up and down the hallway and slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He picked up the soft pink wrap and was at her side in an instant. He took her hand and held it to his lips then ran his fingers over her cheek, cradling her face.

Marguerite wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and whispered, “And what of you? Is His Majesty satisfied with your service?”

He kissed her hand again. “Why yes, he is. He has offered me a promotion and command of the
Renegade
once again. An actual command this time, not a cover for another operation.”

“And do you think you might take it?”

“That depends,” he smiled at her.

“On what?” she wasn’t going to give him any leeway.

“On whether or not I am compelled to take it by my low status as a single man in this new world.” He smiled at her as he kissed her hand again and held it at his lips.

“I believe you are safe to pass up this particular commission without any fear of the law hunting you down,” she said with a smile. Then her face suddenly turned dark.

“What is it,” he asked.

“Only, I just can’t believe you’d still want a harebrained woman like me as your wife.”

“I don’t want a harebrained woman as my wife. I want Lady Marguerite Vadnay as my wife, and she’s anything but harebrained.”

“Do you really mean that?” she asked, hating how pathetic she sounded. But she needed to know. She had to be certain.

“Yes. I mean that.”

“Then the answer is yes.” Jacques leaned in slowly and Marguerite closed her eyes, savoring the moment before their lips met, when a fierce banging came at the door.

“Why does everyone seem to think I need to be up early this morning? Stay here.” Marguerite walked to the door and opened it a crack. A deckhand stood in the hall, his face flushed and his breath coming in large gulps. “What’s the matter?” Marguerite’s chest tightened.

“It’s her, miss.” He gulped a few more breaths then finished. “She’s escaped.”

“Who?”

“Douleur! They were escorting her back to Montreal to stand trial, but she got away. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Oh, cogs and sockets. Thank you.”

“Yes, miss.”

She closed the door behind her and turned to Jacques. “Maybe you should consider that commission after all.”

THE END

The late 1600’s are infamously remembered as The Golden Age of Piracy. The seas of the world were an open playground for every sea-bordered country and scoundrels of every sort. There were new laws governing the waters that didn’t govern the land, and there were also unspoken rules, codes of conduct, and traditions springing up across the globe. Many of these customs and the reality of a life at sea have been forgotten, especially in popular culture portrayal.

Cinema and works of fiction often show the navies, while not always commanded with integrity by those in charge, were the best organizations with which to see the world and learn the sailing trade. In truth, the organized navies, England’s in particular, were far from the clean, well dressed, well fed, and highly organized institutions as they are often portrayed. Unless you were from a noble family and could secure a position as a commander in the higher ranks of a ship, you were most likely drafted, or impressed, to serve and forced into a life that bordered on slavery. Sailors were expected to work long hours, rowing, bailing water, manning guns in time of battle, and all on promised pay that was far below what they could expect to earn on a merchant vessel. Once a ship was finished with its commission, the men were free to return home, but many never made it that far. Commanders often sacrificed sailors before cargo and held back the best rations for themselves, leaving the men to go without clean water or food and forcing them to forage and raid local ports when landing.

These harsh conditions led to the not surprising problem of desertion and piracy. Many sailors would jump ship for a pirate vessel if given the chance. Unlike the navies of several countries, pirate ships were held only to their own codes and were often run more like a democracy. The captain of the pirate ship was usually chosen by the men for his (or on rare occasions, her,) ability to read, write, and keep records. The pirates kept track of everything they stole and kept careful books on who was to receive what part of the booty. Men could expect to be paid immediately, and handsomely, after a successful raid when living the pirate lifestyle, as opposed to the legitimate service as a navy sailor where low wages were rarely paid and often held back to keep the men in service.

When major decisions were being made, the entire crew of a pirate ship, from the youngest deck boy to the captain, often voted. Mutiny was rare and only happened when a captain tried to go against the wishes of the crew. Many crews also developed their own codes of conduct in regard to the types of ships they would plunder and how they would treat captives, especially women. Some were ruthless and uncaring, but others were honorable, allowing women and children peace and safe passage to land. Conduct varied greatly between ships, but the basic foundation was the same; voting, even wealth distribution, and no need to answer to anyone as long as they were on the sea.

Several pirate crews worked so efficiently together that the governments of the world took notice. While it angered some, many governments approached successful pirate captains and offered them pardons if they would work as privateers, which was essentially a pirate with the protection of a government. Privateers had to give a portion of their spoils to their patron country, but in return they were protected from being tried for piracy in any country. If they were attacked by an unfriendly country, they could report it as an act of war, which also provided them with a buffer.

It’s no surprise that so many men opted for the life of piracy in the late 1600’s and early 1700’s. Considering other options, it wasn’t a bad lifestyle for a penniless young man trying to avoid impressment to the navy. A few women also took to this lifestyle with much success. Cheng I Sao was one of the most feared women on the seas, commanding a fleet of nearly 50,000 pirates in her prime. Mary Read and Anne Bonny found each other during a high-seas battle where Mary was disguised as a man and doing quite well for herself. They both started plundering openly as women alongside “Calico” Jack Rackam and were soon feared for their ferocity and ability to fight and drink as well as any man. And the leader of them all, Grace O’Mally ruled a fleet of twenty ships in the 1500’s, a time when women were rarely educated and were restrained to their homes. She gave the British navy a run for their money on the coasts of western Ireland her whole life.

While the truth is far from glamorous, it is, nevertheless, fascinating. Captain Douleur is based largely on these famous pirate women. They were ruthless scoundrels, sometimes worse than their male counterparts, using their womanly assets to avoid punishment and to lead unsuspecting sailors and merchants to their deaths, but they were also far ahead of their time in the struggle for equality and women’s rights. They proved that women could keep up with men, even in the criminal arts.

Lady Marguerite is based on my ancestor, Marguerite Sauviot, who actually did sail the Atlantic to Canada as a young girl on her own in search of a new life during a perilous time.

Because of their infamy and careful record keeping, there are several documents on pirates and privateers of all types that have survived the centuries through court records. If you are interested in learning more about pirates, I suggest you visit your local library and check out the books listed below. If you are interested in your own ancestors, pirates or not, I highly recommend the free website:

http://www.familysearch.org

Who knows? Maybe there’s some pirate blood pumping your heart toward adventure after all.

●
      
The Pirate Hunter: The True Story of Captain Kidd,
Richard Zacks (Hachette 2003)

●
      
Under the Black Flag: The Romance and Reality of Life Among the Pirates
, David Cordingly (Random House Trade Paperbacks 2006)

●
      
Pirates of the Carolinas,
Terrance Zepke (Pineapple Press 2005)

●
      
Blackbeard: The Life and Legacy of History’s Most Famous Pirate,
Charles River Editors

My husband is a saint. He is always going to be the first person I thank, always. Without his shining halo, I’d never be able to write a word. I’d be slaving away in a messy kitchen somewhere with cockroaches licking my toes. Thank you for
everything
, honey. Next comes a list of people who helped me in life and with this book, in no particular order.

Amy Jameson—agent extraordinaire, Chris Coray & Emma Nelson—amazing CPs and lovers of all dark things, Erin Isgett & Sarah Baird, Eric Ehlers—Ninja Monkey, Judith & George Holt—who let me invade their office and saved my sanity, Carole Rummage, The Straitjacket Writers, The Kidlit Drink Night Podcast crew, my SCBWI Carolinas family, Southeast Regional Library and librarians everywhere, Month9Books, the makers of Paul Newman’s sour licorice sticks, the woman who invented chocolate—because we all know it was a woman, and all the little birds outside my window, especially the cardinal with no feathers on his head. Rock on, baldy.