Taylor felt nervous about the rest of the night. The others suggested she sleep in the cabin, but she made her way to the cook’s space below deck. She needed to seem herself, as if she didn’t know any of this.
Vernon wasn’t there, thankfully. He was entertaining the crew on deck - and making sure they didn’t go too far. Keeping the ship functioning as it made it’s way, whilst the crew indulged far more than the captain had suggested they might be allowed.
She figured that was Vernon’s doing. Trying to ease the anger and fears that the crew had expressed to him. Help them go along with his plan, instead of trying to make a grab for the map and killing them all.
A shiver ran down her spine at the thought.
A picture of her attempting to seduce Vernon, and so gain an upper hand that way, ran across her mind. She clapped a hand to her mouth and burst out laughing at the ridiculous image.
The door creaked open and Vernon thumped into the room, whistling happily to himself. He barely glanced at her before firing up the stoves, and beginning to cut up the vegetables.
“What do you think, reckon we can hide this from the crew tonight? I was thinking bolognese. The Italian thing helps to hide the healthy from these sea folk.”
Taylor moved up and took over cutting the vegetables, as Vernon drifted sideways to begin boiling some water. She smiled weakly over at him, as strongly as she could pretend. “Doubt that they could tell, outside the ale.”
“Nah, they aren’t deep into it. Couldn’t sail, if they were.” He shrugged it off, before hesitating and frowning, “So… What did ya think o’ the plan, Taylor?”
She swore as she cut her finger, dropping the knife and sucking on it as she stared over at him.
Vernon shrugged and smiled, “I weren’t doin’ a thing like this, without our benefactor. Ya the one who found the map, right? Ya the brave one in all of this.”
“You’re… A pirate.” She breathed slowly.
He shrugged again, continuing to cook, “I ain’t gettin’ me fortune by the by, if that what you meanin’. I was with ol’ Flint when he buried this. He took me leg. I reckon I owed a l’il. But that bastard, ol’ Bill, he took off with the lot meant for all of us.”
“They’ll kill me…” She whispered.
Vernon shook his head, “The crew? Nah! Ya one of us. I mean, can’t say they’ll play nice with the squire ’n doc. We’ll do our best to save ’em. Nobody wants to kill nobody. Just things be easier that way, on the sometime.”
“One of you?”
He sighed, “Well… Ain’t no secret of it. I were no mindin’ if you be my woman. If ya just be a lad, that fine too. But you be one of us. Those rich bastards set you to work with the crew, when the map be all yours. What deservin’ of it, do they bein’?”
“The doctor has always been there for me.” She firmed her jaw.
Vernon nodded, “And we be hopin’ to put him safe at home, again. The waters don’t need to roar. We just need to be gettin’ our due. You found somethin’ o’ ours. We ain’t ones to let it go.”
Taylor frowned, and lowered her bleeding hand slowly to her side, bracing herself for what would follow. It might well determine everything that would come next.
“Equal share. And I’ll help you take the ship.”
“Equal share.” Vernon agreed, “But… No takin’, before we needin’.”
“My thoughts exactly.” She said, and tried to make it look like she was relaxing, but she was more on edge than ever before.
The cook moved a little closer to her, brushing her cheek with one finger, “I thought you were a fierce one, and a smart one. It is good to see I ain’t wrong. But… Will you be one takin’ it as a woman? Or a man?”
Taylor fumbled, not really knowing what she was doing. She put her hand to his chest, but too firmly. Pushing him away. She followed it quickly with what she hoped sounded romantic. “The crew don’t need to know. But… As you do…”
“I keepin’ quiet. Ain’t no fool.” Vernon went to turn back to the cooking, respecting her rejection.
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. If her words were too clumsy, maybe her actions could open the opportunity. She didn’t really trust him anymore. There was irony in that. She was doing the most trusting thing, only now that he didn’t deserve it.
The man looked over at her and raised an eyebrow, “We do have some cookin’ be doin’.”
“After, then.” Taylor said firmly.
He nodded slowly, eyes travelling up and down her briefly, “After, then.”
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There was no privacy to be had upon a ship. The closest that the two of them could find, was the cook’s own kitchen. It was a place that sailors avoided, because of tempers and knives, and the proximity between the two.
The sharpness of things lying about on the benches was a concern, but it quickly became nothing as Taylor found herself sitting there, and firm and crusty hands around her waist.
She picked a couple of things from his beard cheekily as he looked up at her face with a… Hesitation. His knowing eyes were checking every inch of her face. Making certain that this was precisely what she wanted to do.
Truth was… She did.
There was a nervousness in it all. She hadn’t exactly gone around kissing the sailors at the Nightingale. Keeping herself a secret was far more of a concern for her father, than the thought of one day having a grandchild. She had never truly thought she’d find herself abed with a single soul.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
She was glad to be free of corsets, and to ignore the makeup of a lady of high society. She was happy to hoist the ropes, and could tot the rum with the rest of them. A woman was a thing scandalous, so she’d always played the role of man.
Not knowing how a woman would approach the situation, Taylor threw aside the expectations. She wasn’t going to be some quiet and meek thing. If Vernon was to have her, then it would be on her terms.
She grabbed him bottom of the beard and dragged it in. She breathed his musk of rum and tobacco, before giving him a kiss firm and strong.
Pants or none, he would know she was the one in charge.
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Taylor felt light as she skipped onto the deck the next morning. All the weight on her shoulders had disappeared. She knew there was still a lot to be worried about, but she simply… Wasn’t.
The breeze was gone, and the crew were now towing the ship into final position. About a half mile out to the coast, to all their grumbling. The red sun coated some grey woods, that covered most of the closest island.
Streaks of bright yellow broke through the lower lands, interrupted by tall pine trees, some by themselves, others in clumps. Yet the general colouring of the lower island was uniform, and empty.
The hills above ran with vegetation clinging to spires of naked rock. Strangely shaped, leading up and to the Lookout, which Taylor guessed was four hundred feet up the island. The hill was sheer in almost every direction, before sharply cutting off flat with the construction of a man.
With no sign of wind, the morning was one of work, and Taylor soon found her calloused hands pulling at an oar, as she lay in a small boat ahead of the ship. She moved in time with the song of the crew, as they dragged the damn thing through the rolling water.
> Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
She had volunteered for the part, even though she didn’t really have any business being there. The heat sweltering the crew had them grumbling, and the woman not quite keeping pace with the rest soon had her own name cursed as well.
> Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Israel was in command of her boat, and instead of keeping everyone to order, and to pace with the others towing, he grumbled as loud as the worst. His eye met hers more than once.
“At least it ain’t forever.” He muttered.
Taylor was right on edge, and that gave her no comfort. The men were brisk and willing before today, but… The very sight of the island seemed to have unlocked the pirate inside.
> For the voyage is long and the winds don’t blow
Spotting who was, and wasn’t, a willing servant to Edward Vernon, and their own greedy hearts, was no difficult task. Unfortunately, there was even fewer who weren’t along the pirate’s life than they had thought.
She heard the orders booming from the ship, where Vernon sat near the steersman, and conned the ship. His voice guided them through a difficult passage, as if he had done it a dozen times before. Edward never hesitated between each call.
The Coronet pulled anchor, about a third of a mile from each shore. The mainland on one side, and Skeleton Island on the other. They came perilously close to brushing at clean sand, and as soon as the anchor dropped a cloud of birds came crying out of the woods on Skeleton Island.
> And it’s time for us to leave her
Two little rivers emptied out into a pond, or rather a swap. The foliage round that part of the shore had a kind of sickly brightness. A shimmering of what might be fog, or just a wetness to the soil.
She couldn’t see anything of the house or stockade that she’d seen on the map. Buried somewhere among the trees, if they hadn’t collapsed since the map had been crafted. Point of fact, if there weren’t a map, if felt like they might have been the first to the island.
Edward’s perfect guidance, another exception to that thought.
The air was perfectly still. The only sound that of the rowing ship, crashing through the water. Just distantly, there was a booming of the surf against the rocks, at least a half mile down the beach.
> And it’s time for us to leave her!
A strange smell hung over the whole anchorage. Sodden leaves, rotting tree trunks. It had Taylor scrunching her nose, and wondering whether there was a worse scent than a drunken sailor.
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If the conduct of the men aboard the boat had been alarming, coming aboard found them threatening. They lay about the deck, speaking in growls and glaring around.
When orders came down, they were only very grudgingly obeyed, and met with defiant glares. Soon, Taylor doubted even those men that she’d thought were free of Vernon’s past. Every single man seemed lost in a thunder cloud crying out for them to seize the ship.
Vernon himself saw danger in it all. Taylor saw him moving about the deck, going from group to clustering, spreading advice and showing himself as the perfect example of a willing and civil sailor. Herself, she just fingered the map she was hiding in her clothing. A score that would have the sailors erupt, if they knew it was in reach.
Vernon smiled at everyone. Were an order given, then Edward would be on his crutch, crying out a cheery, “Aye, sir!”
Along with the smiles, and the talk, he kept up songs among the crew. Trying to use the music as a unity, when everything else was failing. Yet, the discontent and gloom only seemed to grow.
Taylor was called for a council in the cabin.
Not that they actually called it that. She was fetched to help clean the captain’s cabin, because she was nothing but a lowly handmaiden. Even though both sides seemed to want to rely on her, now.
“If I risk just one more order, the whole damnable ship’ll come about our ears.” The captain stated fiercely, “They speak back to me. The men do as Vernon says, but… The one man we can rely upon would be Vernon.”
“What? Is he not against us?” Trelawney said in disbelief.
The captain nodded, “Certainly. However, he is as anxious as you and I to smother things. He’d sooner talk them out of anything, if he had the chance. So… I propose we give the man a chance. Allow the men an afternoon ashore. If they all go, we’ll take the ship. If none, then we hold the cabin. Whoever does go ashore, I am certain that Vernon will bring back as mild as a lamb.”
Taylor wasn’t sure that she agreed, and was given no space to air that disagreement. Nor was she given the space to tell them of any of her own developments with Edward. No one was interested in the cabin boy.
The captain took three of the men into their confidence. Handing out pistols to Hunter, Joyce and Redruth. Not to Taylor herself, but to the doctor and squire. The captain himself took two.
Hunter and the others were entirely unsurprised by the news, and took weapons with a grim silence. However, there was a confidence to them, that Taylor was beginning to identify with all seamen.
Then the captain went out onto deck and addressed the crew.
“Lads!” The man said with enthusiasm, “The day has been quite a journey. Hot and tired. A turn ashore’ll hurt none. The boats still lie in the water. Take it in gigs, and as many as you please may go ashore. I’ll signal a return with a gun, half an hour before sundown.”
The crew answered with a loud cheer, so loud that Taylor missed it.
Captain Taylor turned around, looking towards her in disbelief, and then he staggered forward and collapsed. Her voice caught in her throat as the man’s shirt turned red. The dying captain grabbing her collar with a shaking hand and dragging her down to the deck.
The doctor cried out and opened fire twice, but a pistol has only got the single shot, and firing into the crowd of the entire deck isn’t going to do you a spit of good.
Taylor gritted her teeth as she realised her divided loyalties were being decided for her.
She ripped the grip of the dying man from her shirt, tearing it as she went. She dashed to the side of the ship, and lightly crested over it, dropping to the water below, before dragging herself up and out of the wet, taking an oar in hand and making desperately for the island.
The others firing behind her, drawing swords, must have drawn attention. She heard nothing but the fighting as she made out for a time.
All the same, she heard Vernon’s voice calling out distantly. “Taylor! Blasted woman!”