You Will Act Like A Woman

Pete shifted in his seat and stared hard at the map. Far above he could hear the foot fall of the changing of the watch – men coming and going about their business, shift to shift, watch to watch as they had always done. But now there was an undercurrent to it all. The presence of the girl and the Chinamen had corrupted the morale – made worse by the poisonous drop Pablo was passing off as better than rum, and for half the price. He growled and drained the glass, pulling a grimace as the weak alcohol, sickly sweet with a gentle warming, rather than bitter and rasping kiss of rum on the back of his throat. How any of them were to think straight without the assistance of strong drink ….

“I thought you had a soft spot for Ruby Pete. I’m surprised to here you of all people curse her as a witch. Getting superstitious in your old age?”

The old dog thumped the glass down onto the map table and looked the Captain in the eye.

“There’s rules for a reason Juan. You can’t lock all these hot blooded brutes up with one señora and expect there won’t be some sort of trouble. Where do you think the superstitions come from in the first place? Good solid wisdom on how to run a ship – that’s what I’m telling you.”

“But Lisbon – surely.”

“They got their share of drinking and whoring as they all do – but she’s here everyday, on deck with them, tempting and reminding them of her presence. And there’s no love lost between her and Bruno. He’d run her through with his dagger and give not a second thought to it. It is as though that woman is going out of her way to stir trouble with him. She’d do everyone a favour if she kept to her cabin – rather than trying to be one of the boys. Because frankly – she’s not and she wont ever be – hair or no hair.”

“Point taken.” He was disturbed to here of the antagonism that Ruby had spawned with Bruno. A brilliant and hard nosed bosun, he was also one to act and ask questions later.

He signed and picked up the Juan compass to begin counting out the distance between their current location and that of the port La Spezia. He heard Pete’s diatribe and registered the occasional nod, but his thoughts were elsewhere. At last they had a lead and better than that – Juan reached over to the parchment, they had legitimate entry to Dominic’s funeral festivities. And Domenica … and Intaglio.

“Are you even listening to me Juan?” He looked up to see Pete’s face animated and flushed. “If you really care for her safety Juan – you’ll do something about this today.”

“I shall deal with Señorita Mendes. If you will just stop whining like a woman Pete. I’ll have to ask the Señorita if you can borrow one of her dresses and see that doesn’t cause a stir on deck.”

Pete swung his chair back onto two legs and broke out into a belly laugh that bounced off the walls of the cabin and cleared the air.

“Go up on deck and order some sword practise … get the blood pumping in a different direction, their minds focused on something else. It’s time they sharpened up their fighting. I imagine even disguised as the Abbot of Lisbon there will be need for good men within the grounds if we’re to go to these celebrations.” Pete paused at the door waiting for the rest of his instructions. “And send the Señorita down here.”

Juan poured a liberal sized glass of the stuff they called Port, and like Pete wished for the searing, clarity that came with rum, even if it brought flash backs to his time in the crows nest. The quartermaster it seemed had considered his Amontillado a luxury that as privateers, cut from the Spanish purse strings, they could no longer afford. Juan needed clarity now. Ruby’s presence was like a flint spark that ignited the gunpowder. And he was never sure which way the explosion would swing.

The memory of the slap that tore through his sunburnt face from their last encounter and her obvious absence since then warned for caution. He assumed that she continued to believe that he had intended to leave her behind on the wharf in Lisbon – to steal the intaglio for himself. And the fury that he would be so, unthankful, given the time and effort she’d put in to keep him from Death’s cold embrace. But talking sense to her then was beyond her capacity to hear and he’d let her be.

He could still feel her cool finger tips on him, in stark contrast to the blaze that engulfed his whole body, and her voice soft and low muttering incarnation and singing as the boat rocked to and fro outside the heads of Lisbon. He was thankful for what she had done – but had no idea of how to express that. The woman had a way of turning his words to fit her purpose and not his own.

Emptying the glass, he poured two more, and sat waiting for her to appear at the table.

A quiet knock broke him out of his thoughts of what awaited him in La Spezia and he looked up. A bandana of sweaty canvass covered her head and the curls that were starting to form now her hair had grown. It was darker at the brow, drenched in sweat and her high cheek bones bore the kiss of the sun. The scar on her cheek looked paler, less vicious now her face had tanned. Beneath the rough shirt he could see the strip of cloth she’d used to bind the swell of her breasts flat against her chest. If not for the full, luscious lips and the chiselled cheek bones she could have been just another deck hand.

“You asked for me?” She hesitated at the door.
“Would you prefer to wash and change before we confer?” He rose from his chair and crossed to the door. Her brows collapsed into a V and her eyes narrowed at the corners.
“Do I offend you?”
“Of course now,” Juan offered her his hand. “I was just thinking of your comfort.”
“Something you consider of all your crew members I assume, Captain.”

He felt the sting in her words. When had she ever called him Captain? His hand hovered in the space between them, and she brushed past him to stand at the map table.
“This new act, or whatever it is,” his hands were suddenly animated in front of him, “this can’t go on Señorita.” She too felt the smart of the formal address. “From here on you are banned from working along side the other crew. You are to return to your cabin and behave in a way that is both befitting of a female and a paying passenger. And you are to treat my Bosun with the respect that comes with his position on board here.”

Ruby felt the scar on her cheek tighten and the rage gather in her stomach. She would not be treated like a woman. She would work side by side with the others – as was the deal struck back in his tavern room all those months ago. She was not here to play ladies. And she would not be civil to the Bosun – the bully and tyrant that he was.
“That was not the agreement in the beginning Captain. You took me on as crew and I have signed back on as crew. You were not interested then in the money I offered to be a paying guest aboard. Are you reneging on our deal?”

Juan spread his fingers out on the table and lent over, his face remaining impassive.
“You are a woman Ruby. You are on a boat full of men. As your Captain I consider your safety to be in danger if you continue to behave as you are.”

Ruby mimicked his pose, leaning in as far as her small torso would go, holding his eyes with her own. “I’m in danger because I act like a man. You are worried about my safety, yet you tell me to go and behave like a woman – to flaunt myself in front of the men in my finery. I’ll stick to the rough shirt and pants thanks.”

With speed that shocked her, Juan grabbed her arms and half dragged her across the table, her public bone hitting the side of table.
“You Senora will do as you are told. You will return these clothes to who ever it was that lent them to you and you will retire to your cabin until you are called for. You will dine with me each evening, as is befitting a paying guest and business associate and you will keep off the deck unless you are accompanied by myself or a chaperon appointed by me.”

“Like hell I will,” she spat.
“If not I will toss you to the first boatful of corsairs we meet and let you see how real pirates treat women.”

He shoved her back across the table and settled in the chair he’d been waiting in for her, taking a moment to scratch the fledgling beard on his chin.
“As I told you when we left Lisbon – I put my crew first. No one single individual is above the collective here. You will do as you are told, for your sake and the sake of the crew as a whole.”
“No single above the collective – that is unless you are the Captain of course,” and she stalked out of the cabin slamming the door behind her.

Juan chuckled and poured another Port. Maybe it was the taste of victory, so rare in his exchanges with Ruby, or maybe it was a sense of habituation. The port didn’t taste so bad this time.

*
Juan had the bell rung for supper and sent Calvin to collect Ruby. He’d ordered a bath prepared for her in the officers mess hall and goaded the galley into supplying something other than the ordinary salty tack and hard biscuits. The lamps were set low when she appeared, like an apparition at the door way, Calvin hovering behind her.

Ruby allowed him to press his lips to her cheek at the threshold and to lead her to the table, set with silver cutlery and fine china. The flickering light from the oil lamps on the wall caught the cut crystal goblets, casting tiny sporadic rainbows on the white linen table cloth.

They ate and drank in silence until the meal was finished. Juan poured each of them a glass of olorosa from his private stash and set the glasses on a tiny table between two chairs that Ruby couldn’t remember furnishing the cabin before. On the table, between the glasses, lay a parchment.

Ruby settled into the soft velvet chair, tucking one foot underneath her and rearranging the silk dress. With her good hand she reached for the parchment.
“This is what this is all about then.” She arched an eyebrow at Juan then unrolled the parchment. It took time for each word to form itself in her head. Reading did not come easily or naturally to her, but there was plenty of time and oil in the lamps. She refused to have him read it to her.

Juan sat watching her, sipping the rich aromatic sherry – revelling in the slow burn down his oesophagus, watching her forehead furrow and relax. If only there were more bottles of this to get him through to the next port.

“Dominic is not dead.” She rolled the parchment and retied the ribbon. “I saw and spoke with the man this time last year.”
“Unless he died in the year since you saw him. Matthew heard him declared dead in the Abbey at Lisbon.”
“But if he is dead….” Ruby didn’t dare to finish the sentence.
“From what Matthew told us – he’s been declared dead, lost in the New World. Speculation and tradition more than hard evidence that he actually died. It would seem that you are the only person other than your husband to have seen him in the last two years.”

A wry smile spread across Ruby’s face.
“My husband will be in on this. There is something they must want from the old man too. This is the sort of grand occasion the De Lumes love – but there is always a motive for the extravagance. You learn certain things when you pinning and tucking the garments of the rich and influential.”
Juan chuckled. “Dominic is the sort of man who would allow celebrations marking his passing to proceed just so that he could attend. I heard him once remark that he’d give his right arm to go to his own funeral just to see who came and what they said about him. Joked he’d be the first to offer a toast to the dearly departed.”

Ruby shifted in the chair and let the parchment rest in her lap, reaching for the crystal glass of expensive sherry.
“What do you want of me then?”
“I need you to stay safe and close to me Ruby.” He paused to savour another mouthful of the olorosa. “I need you to come into the villa with me in Italy. Unlike others in my crew, you have first hand experience with these people.”
“You want me to shave me head again?”
Juan laughed and placed the glass back on the table, reaching for the parchment. “Something like that maybe. I haven’t decided. Matthew only brought this to me this morning and I’m not sure yet that I am pious enough to embody the role of the good Abbot.”

He stood and reached for her hand.
“Until then I need you to stay safe on board. Cultivating the ire of men like Bruno will lead to scenarios that will do your health and well-being little good.” Ruby growled. “So give me your word that you will stay below decks? You are too important to me to lose.”

Unsure as to which meaning she wanted to take from his words, Ruby placed her good hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet, stretching her foot that was numb. Placing a hand on his forearm she said, “Shall we go out and gaze at the stars for a while. You have given me much to think on.”

He smiled and took her above to the poop deck, his hand resting on the small of her back as he pointed out the different constellations with his other. And wondered what she was thinking.

An Invitation to the Ball

La Gongozzler felt alive with steady crescendo of the waves as they rolled underneath, the crackling songs of the creatures under the hull with the slight motion of a wave working the joints within the structure of the ship. Matthew gripped the side rail as he stared at the endless horizon and smiled at the contented gurgle of the water that says she'd hit cruising speed. The wind singing through the rigging. The ensign snapping. This was where he was meant to be; not on land preaching to an indoctrinated congregation. His brow darkened with the realization his mission had not yet finished; yet this path was far more favourable than that on land.

A school of fish, shooting around with their comet trails attempted to race the ship unsuccessfully. Matthew breathed in deep the pungent, sulphury smell that coincided with phosphorescence trails in the sea the evening before. Despite their liberal religious views, many of the men had resorted to crossing themselves as they hauled their nets in, dragging out the liquid light; the soft sea jellies crushed and torn, shining and clinging to the hemped knots. Perhaps his time as a conveyor of the words of God and comfort were not quite over.

Checking quickly that the scroll was still in place in his tunic, Matthew made his was towards the Captains cabin. A black cat wounds its way round his legs nearly causing him to fall, but before he could catch or scald it, it had vanished like a puff of smoke.

He could hear the low murmur of both the Captain and Pete inside and was hesitant to knock; his fist poised in mid air inches away from the wooden door.

“Come in, whoever lurks outside.” Juans sense of his environment and surroundings had never ceased to impress him.

The Captain stood tall, impeccably dressed in a snow white tunic, loosely closed at the neck by a criss cross of cord. His beard clipped short and smoothed and his dark stubbly hair glistened like diamonds with a fine sweat.

“Excuse me Captain, might I have a word?”

Juan extended his arm out to him. “Father Paulo, please come in.”

Matthew glanced at Petes consistent frown and stepped inside the cabin.

“Please, I am no longer Father Paulo – he was left behind in Lisbon. I am simply Matthew your head carpenter.”

Pete scratched his bead and grumbled, “Men changing their names, women still on board, Bruno smuggling God-only-knows-what on board. The Gongozzler is a shambles – beggin’ your pardon Captain.” Pete continued to scratch his beard, but flicked his eyes away from both men.

Juans tightly smiled and inclined his head. “No you are right Pete; as usual. I have not been myself these past months. Things have changed.”

“It all started with that woman, that witch.” Pete whispered almost to himself.

“Whom we not only need for these maps, but has proven to be resourceful and as good a hand on deck as any man we have here.”

Matthew cleared his throat.

“Please, Matthew – whats on your mind?”

“The week in Lisbon,Sir. I had a lot of thinking to do, wasn’t sure if I was going to sign on again.”

“There’s no shame in that – I gave everyone an option. I am glad you decided to join us again though.”

“I went straight to the monastery, I needed to think, away from the other men and from the ship. I won’t deny Captain that I have been involved in many things within the church and part of my decision to come back as simply Matthew has to do with my departure of faith in the direction our new Pope has taken the church.”

Juans brow wrinkled as he nodded trying to understand where Matthew was going with this.

“I had only been there a few days and during our midday mass the Abbot took the pulpit and asked for special prayers for the Marquis DeLume.”

“Diego is dead?” Stammered Juan

“No – The Marquis Senior – Dominic.”

“So he’s finally been announced as dead.” Pete observed.

Juan flinched involuntarily, “Its been over two years since anyone has seen or heard from him. The New World has little to explore which would take that long to return from. I suppose someone had to announce it.”

Matthew shifted his weight on his feet, but kept his hands clasped behind his back. “The monastery had prayers and ceremonies set out for a week to mark the Marquis passing. There were more pigeons and messangers arriving and departing during the next few days than I had seen before.”

“I hadn’t realized the old fox was so well connected within the church.” Pete had stopped scratching his beard and began to pull at strands thoughtfully.

“He was one of Romes greatest patrons, especially in the area of conversion and missionary work in the Holy Land and in the New World.” Replied Matthew

“Makes sense – he had his political fingers in every pie.” Juan surmised, “I had heard he was a different man before his first wife died. Apparently he purged his guilt by going on some sort of pilgrimage to the holy lands. Came back a changed man, in more ways than one.”

Matthew nodded. “Its well known he traveled with Ignatius of Loyola, who was a zealot - as most missionaries are. Spending time with him would change anyone.”

He then unrolled an ornate scroll he’d retrieved from inside his tunic and laid it out on Juans desk.

Juan and Pete crowded round to read, “Earl Fedele De Lume, together with Marquis Diego De Lume and La Contessa Dominica De Lume have announced a Masquerade Ball at the De Lume estates in La_Spezia, Liguria as a mark of respect of their fathers passing. A three day celebration including activities favoured by the late Marquis will be undertaken. Please present this invitation to the steward upon your arrival where rooms to your requirements await.”

Juan looked up in surprise. “Where or how did you get this?”

Matthew allowed himself a sly smile and a shrug. “I was curious. I went to the Abbots rooms and found this on his writing desk.”

“You broke into the Abbots private rooms?”

“I wasn’t always a man of the cloth.”

“Evidently”

“I’ve been on this ship long enough to know that most of the crew have a life on shore they are either running or hiding from.”

Juan nodded his head. “No truer word has been spoken. Now what to do with this.” He rolled the invitation up and tapped one end of it on his chin.

“If I may be excused Captain?” Matthew lowered his eyes slightly.

“Of course Father Pau..erm.. Mathew. And thank you.”

“If I might say sir, We may be damned as pirates, but pardon my bluntness, you need to say your farewells to Dominic. Captain Juan of the Gongozzler may not be welcome in port, but the Abbot of Lisbon with his invitation will be welcomed into the castle to pay his respects and offer comfort to the bereaved family. Again beg your pardon for my forthrightness Captain, as a priest, I consoled and guided families dealing with death all of the time. One thing I know is that if you don’t make the effort to say goodbye, you will carry that guilt around for many years.” He paused and looked at Juan broad back. “ I know Domonic was more a father to you than a mentor.”

Juans back remained still, the only sound in the cabin the gentle creaking of the boards in the ship. “I’ll take my leave Captain. I’ve overstepped my place and apologize.”

Without turning, Juan replied, “Matthew, there is no need to apologize. You have only spoken your truth and especially now I need honest men around me who are not afraid to speak their minds and hearts.”

Matthew spun on his heal and left the cabin.

Pete picked up the crystal decanter from the small side board and poured two measures into cut glass tumblers. Handing one to Juan he simply stated, “Port, Captain?”

Juan wrinkled his nose as he downed the shot and stared at the empty glass as the remaining cloying fluid dripped slowly down the sides. “How much of this stuff did Pablo buy again?”

“Too much, Captain. Another?”

Juan shook his head. “Well, we had planned to visit the De Lume Villa in La_Spezia . Fete, it seems, has dealt us a trump card, an open invitation.”

Juans mind began to calculate the tasks need to be undertaken before they arrived.

“We will need to change some of the rigging on La Gongozzler and rename her. There is no way we will be able to weigh anchor as we are.”

“Easy enough captain. We can do that without docking anywhere.”

“Lets back to the maps and plot our best course. As Matthew reminded me; we are pirates and will be unwelcome in most ports. Once at the ball, we can organize a sweep of Dominics private library, which will be out best starting point to find the key to our Intaglio. I feel certain we will find what we are looking for there.”

“And how will you hide from la Contessa? Your brother who will most certainly be there? With the reading of a will as large as The Marquis, even they will come out of hiding to claim what is there.”

Juan scratched his stubbly head and then laid his hand flat upon his prickly pate. “No-one looks at a man of faith too long; especially if I keep my head shaved.”