I was born in a small but bustling port city on the coast of Jamaica where my  father ran a successful tea business, or at least, it was successful for a time. 

That was until I was around 20 years old and my family began to go bankrupt.

It took them about until I was 23 for them to realize they still had at least one asset: me. The willful, daughter who had managed to avoid marriage through a combination of excuses and serendipity up until that point.

It seemed I couldn’t avoid it forever. 

That much was clear when I, dressed in my finest clothes, stood tall and proud in front of a man I had never met before but would be forced to spend the rest of my life with. He was the head of a huge trade company based in the same town and had made my parents an offer they couldn’t refuse. 

“This is going to be your new husband, Abigail. Isn’t that wonderful.”

He wasn’t unnatractive, though older than me by years, but I had no desire to marry a man. Besides, something told me not to trust him. 

I curtsied despite myself. “How do you do sir?” 

He grinned with self satisfaction. “Sir. I like that. I think we’ll get along well.”

I really, really did not like it. 

The ceremony was small. After all, it was hardly a marriage between lovers. 

The trouble really began the night after our wedding. He wanted to consummate the marriage, tame the willful girl and claim his prize. I said no. 

He slapped me. Hard. 

“You useless brat! You realize it’s my right, don’t you! I could force myself upon you if I wanted to. Do you want that!?”

I stayed silent, glaring at him, unable to keep the tears from my eyes. 

He sighed deeply, wiping my tears. His touch made me feel as if I needed to wash myself thoroughly. 

 “All I ask of you is to be a good, dutiful wife.” 

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I said nothing.

Things went on this way for about a week. I was sequestered to my room at all times, unless he wanted to show me off. He’d try to take me to bed and I’d refuse. Then he’d hit me, his spit landing on my face as he yelled about how he couldn’t believe he wasted so much coin on a wretch like me who can’t even perform the one simple task he asked of me.

And then a cannonball came crashing through my window

Thankfully, at the time, I was nowhere near the window, as I was curled up in bed reading on the other end of the room. 

Rattled and stunned, I froze, holding my breath as I listened carefully. 

The port was under attack. That much was clear from the noises now pouring in through the broken window.

Carefully, I krept over to the window and peeked out at the carnage taking place in the town below.

Suddenly I heard footsteps thundering towards my room. They could be pirates, or worse, my husband and his staff. 

That’s when I did something that even I had to admit was quite insane. Carefully stepping past the broken glass of the window, I climbed out onto the decorative trellis that held the vines climbing the wall of the property. Limbs shaking, I struggled to keep a firm grip. My foot slid off the trellis as I lost my footing, and I watched as my house slipper fell to the ground below. Quickly, I forced myself to look back up as my stomach churned with the fear of falling. 

Once my feet touched the ground, I ran, not away from the danger, but towards it. 

The pirates and town guard were quite preoccupied with each other, nearly completely ignoring me as I headed for the docks. I weaved through sword fights and panicked civilians running the opposite way before finally making it onboard the first ship I could see. 

It was empty. Everyone on board was probably sleeping in town tonight or had left recently to help with the battle. Either way, it made it simple to sneak onboard. 

I ran below deck. Into the hull where supplies were stored. There was a knife laying next to a sack of potatoes. Without thinking, I picked it up. I grabbed fistfuls of my long copper hair and began to saw at them. To this day I’m not sure why. To become less desirable? To hide my identity? Just to get a fresh start? I shoved the strands into my bodice to hide the evidence with the full intention of throwing them into the sea if I got the chance.

I crawled into a crate full of dry goods as I tried to process everything that I had just done. My husband would probably be furious. He would probably call a search party to comb the town for me. Meanwhile, I was an uninvited guest on a ship crewed by strangers sailing to who knows where with no real plan. Only time would tell what was in store for me next. 

Little did I know, this ship was neither civilian nor military. But, it wouldn’t take me much longer to figure out just how much danger I was in.

I could sense the people coming and going from the hull, see the shabby clothes they wore as I parted through a knothole in the wood, hear their talk of taking rich ships and splitting up the spoils. 

These were the men who had besieged the port. 

I had stowed away on a pirate ship.