Chapter Six Part Two

The Widow was a bulky, two masted craft. It sailed under duress, needing constant repair, due to it's age. The wood was rotting out from under their feet in a daily battle against the elements.

Captain Redbeard handed the wheel over to his quartermaster. Descending to the main deck, he walked carefully to the rail, paying close attention to where he stepped. He planted his feet firmly, on a stretch of solid wood, as he drew out his scope. He had decided to veer from his course when he noticed the ship anchored in the bay. He was sailing right past it, so he decided to investigate a bit, as it looked like easy pickings.

As they approached and drew closer, he could see 'twas flying the English flag, yet he recognized the ship as the Saucy Wench.

As luck would have it, Redbeard had need of a man on that ship. However, what was Petals doing there in the first place? He lowered his scope and made his way aft to prepare to quit his ship.

There was only one way to discover what the Gentleman Pirate was up to. And that, is exactly what Redbeard intended to do.

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Brutus and Michaels played out the anchor lines, allowing the ship to swing broadside, against the point of the cove. The guns now faced the oncoming ship in a show of strength and a willingness to defend itself.

Brutus watched as the Grieving Widow came closer. She dropped her sails and glided into the bay, as the oars came out to drag, slowing the ship's approach.

The Widows anchor was thrown out, dragging until it caught, leaving the two ships with enough space between them, you could fit two more.

After his men quickly lowered a a gig, Redbeard descended the ladder, along with three crewmen. One of whom held a very young boy by the arm as he climbed into the gig with them. The four men rowed over to the Wench and Redbeard hailed Brutus and Michaels.

"Ahoy Brutus, and where is your Captain?" Redbeard called out to the man, as they approached.

"Gone ashore to find the freshwater, we were running a bit low." Brutus called down to him, seeing the small boy huddled in the bottom of the craft.

"Ah, I see," Redbeard answered nonchalantly. "Makin' a pot o' stew on yonder shore are ye?" He chuckled at his own humor as he had wondered why they had a big pot on the beach.

"T'was such a fine spot, we thought to do some laundry as well." Brutus was familiar with Redbeard's constant questions, T'was his way, he had always been the curious sort.

"Ahoy, Michaels, ye are just t' man I be lookin' for, 'twas to Nassau for repairs we were, as luck be wi' me, ye could save me some time an look to the mast step I been worrin' o'er." Redbeard squinted up at the two men, as Brutus and Michaels exchanged glances.

It would not be below Redbeard's moral code to hold Michaels hostage in return for some of their cargo. This caused the men to be leery.

"I would be happy to oblige if Vi has not a problem with that. We were about taking care of our own while we sit at anchor but I would not mind taking a look." Michaels called down to him.

"Ah, I see. I be going to ask Petals in that case." Redbeard turned to his men, "To shore." He picked up his oar and the men struck out for the beach, as Brutus and Michaels exchanged worried glances.

They had not meant for the man to go looking for their Captain. At least they had been able to warn Violet, and Sam and Pete were on the beach. Armed with machetes, pistols.... and Harpy.

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Violet stopped, as this was not the best way to travel anymore. The stream made a bend, away from the shore, to run along beside it for a ways. Violet needed to go straight where he could see open sky ahead. His problem being, that the vegetation grew thick, between here and there. He would need to hack their way out.

"Violet, put me down, please." Betsy spoke to him quietly, as she could see his dilemma, and she did not want to hamper his efforts.

Violet lifted her over his shoulders then down, setting her down gently on the bank. Settling his hand atop her head in a light caress, he looked behind him to where the stream flowed, then to front of him, where a thin trail ran alongside the shore, through the growth.

"Leave me, Violet, and go see to the warning. I will be fine until you come back for me." She looked up at him and he saw calm, and peace, in her beautiful, clear, fawn colored eyes.

Violet looked around them more fully, they were only five meters from the sands and shore, yet the running stream had fed the vegetation, so that it grew thickly here.

He squatted down in front of her. "You have your pistol?" He asked of her, as he held her cheek in his hand, stroking her cheekbone lightly with his thumb.

"I do, 'tis tucked in my belt, but I fear not, husband. All will be well." She looked at him, and he could see in her eyes, she believed the words she spoke.

"Why do you say this, Kitten? I have been worried for you since the warning, and I still have my concerns to keeping you safe." He looked into her eyes, his own filled with turmoil and question.

"Hold my hands, Violet." She reached her hands up to him, as he took each of hers, in his own.

He watched as she looked to the heavens and spoke softly, but surely, "Father, I ask that You give my husband the peace You have given me, please guide his mind and his actions, knowing that You are master over all, and You care for us. We trust in You, Lord, and put ourselves in Your loving hands." She smiled at the sky as she finished her prayer, then lowered her eyes to Violet's, as she smiled then at him. "Go with God, Violet, and trust, He will care for us." She said confidently.

The radiance that resided in her face, bespoke her belief in her God, as Violet gazed at her in awe. Well, damn, if her little prayer had not worked. Violet felt a peace fall over him and cover him. He squeezed her hands gently then brought them to his lips, kissing them quickly before he rose to stand above her, shaking his head. What a treasure she was.

"Go." She said simply, smiling and pointing down the thin trail that ran along behind them.

He shook his head at her in wonder, then he grinned and loped off down the trail, feeling a hundred stone lighter than a moment ago. After only a few meters, he could see through the trees to his right, another ship had joined them at anchor in the bay. He groaned as he saw t'was Redbeard. That man he could handle. However, the man's questioning ways, drove him insane.

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Betsy sat on the bank and removed the wrap from her foot. This time when she set her heel in the water it did not sting as badly. She took the wrap and rinsed it, wringing out as much of the water as she could. She spread it on the bank to dry out as much as it would in the next few moments. She then braided her hair, tucking it into the back of her shirt, before removing her belt. She set the belt and pistol, with it's bag of shot, next to her.

She prayed as she sat there, until inspiration struck. She took the belt and lay it over one shoulder, hooking it under her other arm. She picked up the damp napkin and tied it around her head. She had seen some of the men do this, those who had longer hair, and needed it kept out of their eyes. She looked down at the water in front of her, as it swirled slowly in a small eddy, and saw a trace reflection of herself. Could she pass as a boy, with the head wrap, and the belt that looked like a scabbard wrapped around her shoulder? As long as the shirt covered her feminine curves below, the bindings she used every morning would conceal her breasts. She smiled at God ruefully, I have never asked to look as a man before, but I do now, Father.

Once more, God spoke to her heart. She dug her fingers into the dirt on the bank and rubbed it across her cheeks, chin, and forehead, hiding her freckles, and the glow upon her face, as she followed His promptings. She then rubbed her hands together, distributing the dirt evenly, over her golden, unblemished skin.

She slipped into her boots and followed where Violet had gone. She had no need to falsify the limp she adopted as she went. If she could but see herself, she would know she had done well. As long as no one looked too closely, she would pass as just another boy on the beach.

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