Sunday, July 26, 2020

CARVED IN STONE

Copyright (c) 2020 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner

.

CARVED IN STONE
By R. Peterson

It was just after midnight early Saturday morning when the Comanche County Sheriff’s car turned east on Vineyard Road. The police radio crackled. “Calling all available sheriffs … When you get done scaring the hell out of those kids in Black Rose Cemetery, I need your help in the dispatch office… Over”
“What’s your problem Beth? … Over”
“There’s a man hiding under my desk … over”
“What’s he doing down there? … Over.”
“Right now he’s sitting in a bucket of ice … over”
“Does this varmint have a name? … Over.”
“He goes by all kinds of names … but around here folks mostly call him John Barleycorn … Over.”
“I’ll bet he’s Canadian … right? … Over.”
“You know I always buy my whiskey from north of the border … Over.”
“This sounds like a job for your husband … Over.”
“His idea of fun is letting the cat out when the neighbor’s dog is loose … over.”
“I’ll call you when I find out what’s going on in the bone-yard …over.”
“If I don’t answer it’s because I’m asleep … over.”
“Okay Beth … Sheriff John Walker … over and out.”
“You better stop in before you go home … or there will be hell to pay.”
John smiled. He had known Beth all his life. She was a second or third-cousin from one of the county’s founding families, and was named for his great-grandmother Elisabeth Walker. Elisabeth Descombey Hicks would never cheat on her husband Carl, but there wasn’t much else to do working dispatch after midnight in a sleepy town like Cloverdale except play on the police radio … and tease whichever officer was on duty.

-------2-------

            Kenworth Hill, the cemetery sextant, was parked in a battered Ford just outside the wrought-iron gate when John pulled up. John guessed the old man’s age at about ninety three, but then in Cloverdale it was hard to tell. Kenny looked like he had gone downhill since John had seen him and that was only a month ago at the Founder’s Day Picnic. Living next door to the place you worked would do that to a person. The old man’s white hair needed cut and his hands were covered with rock dust. Not only did he mow and trim the grass in the Cloverdale resident’s final resting place he also carved most of the stones under which they lay.
“Are the dead rising up out of the ground … again?” John asked him.
            “There will always be death in Cloverdale until someone finds that’s infernal devil’s nest and gets rid of that murderous night vulture,” the old man said. He was rolling a cigarette with shaky fingers.
            “That better be tobacco you’re putting in there!” John smiled.
            “If it was loco weed … I have enough sense to not be smoking it right in front of John Law,” Kenworth retorted.
            “I understand you have some night visitors.”

“Sounds like someone skinning a damned cat in there,” The old man pointed toward the stars. “Must be that time of the year.”
John glanced up at the sky and then stared through the elaborate scroll work of the black-iron fence. “That looks like Mayor Otter’s daughter and a few friends. They’ve always been strange … into Goth dressing.  But I’ve never known them to dig their black fingernails into any animals.”
An infernal screeching sound came from the back of the cemetery it sounded like a couple of huge cats getting ready to fight.
            “That’s why I can’t die peacefully in my sleep.” The old man scowled as he covered his ears. ““If you don’t mind, I’ll sit in my truck and listen to my songs. I seldom work nights … that’s when the crow flies.” He pointed toward the cemetery and then stared at John. “And I’d never go in there … under a flower moon.”
The crackling sound of Hank Williams singing I’m so lonesome I could cry came from the truck radio as the sheriff drove to the back of the cemetery. What the neck is a flower moon? He decided he didn’t want to know.
The sheriff used his spotlight to scan the headstones, and near the back rows he saw five girls, dressed in black and with flashes of silver, chase a cat into a bag that two others were holding. They were tying it shut with rope when he got out of his car.
He was right, it was the mayor’s daughter Joanie, her friend JoAnne Wolfe and three others he’d seen hanging-out around town. “What you got in the bag?” he asked as he walked toward them … as if he didn’t know. For the first time he saw another group of mostly girls standing far back in the shadows. None looked familiar.
            “Nothing!” Joanie shook her head. “We’re just playing around.”
            “There is a law in Comanche County about harming animals,” John told them, “even graveyard mousers.”
            “Better show yourself, Babybat,” Joanie smiled as her friends untied the rope. John was sure he saw the bag bulge just before Marsha Heron crawled out. Her mother was on the city council.
            “I want you and the rest of these ghouls …” He gestured to the strangers standing in the shadows. “To clear-out for the rest of the night,” John told them. “You’re going to give poor Kenworth Hill a heart attack with all this witchy business !”
            “We were just leaving,” Joanie assured him.

------- 3 -------

Kenworth Hill had left when John got back to the gate.
The Sheriff parked just down the road behind a clump of trees and read a newspaper as the two groups walked out of the cemetery. He waited until he was sure that they had left. Joanie and her friends were unusual but he’d always found them polite … respectful. A person had to make allowances for that. The night was especially bright and oddly there were no cricket sounds. Cold chills caressed his spine for no apparent reason. 
He took a coat from the back seat and was putting it on when a shadow passed over a copy of the Vanishing River Tribune that lay on his dash. John looked up. The silhouette of a woman on a bicycle crossed the face of the moon. It was gone when he blinked and looked again. Seconds later another silhouette followed the first. This time it looked like a large, dark bird. John thought it was a crow or a raven; he could tell by the feathering at the ends of its wings. It was flying west toward town. He shook his head and started his car. “Only in Cloverdale,” he muttered.

-------4-------

Erma Bates was eighty-seven years old, so Sheriff Walker wasn’t surprised when she had been found deceased by a home healthcare worker. She was the right age. Two deputies arrived at the tiny house at the south-end of Wallace Avenue a short time before he did. Deputy Miles Davis stumbled out of the house and vomited on a rose bush as John was getting out of his car. Hopefully Renny Young was still on the scene. “Are you okay?”
“Just give me a minute,” Miles said wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve.
John wasn’t prepared for the carnage inside. A window was broken on the far wall. Erma lay under torn bed-sheets and bloody glass fragments. It looked like she struggled and she would have been staring at the ceiling if she had eyes. Someone or something had forcefully removed them from her head. The sheriff dropped his pencil when he opened a pad to take notes.  It bounced off his boot and rolled under the bed. “I’ll be damned,” the sheriff muttered just before he stood up holding the pencil and something else …in his trembling fingers.
            “What’s that?” Renny asked. His face was as white as the sheets used to be.
            “A black feather,” the sheriff said. “It looks like it came from a crow.”

TO BE CONTINUED …

Sunday, July 19, 2020

Sisters of the Sea SHIP WRECK part 3

Copyright (c) 2020 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.



SISTERS OF THE SEA
SHIP WRECK
Part 3

By R. Peterson

All the women ran. The floor of the cliff opening appeared to quake. Rocks and dirt fell from the ceiling and the glowing eyes in the back of the cave were lost in dust and a mad scramble to safety. Once outside, they discovered just how near they had come to being buried alive. A huge crack in the stone that covered the roof was just inches from breaking through. “I hope a bird doesn’t land on that,” Polly said. “The whole thing will come crashing down.”
“It doesn’t have to be a whole bird,” Renny shook her head. “Just a feather or two would do nicely.”
“I don’t want to be around when whatever is in the back of that cave gets hungry and decides to come out!”  Margaret gasped.
The shipwrecked pirates would have carried Loretta down the jungle path if Fiorella hadn’t pointed toward the beach. Three long-boats filled with British soldiers were just reaching the sand. The Man-of-War, that had crushed the stern of the Sea Witch, lay anchored in the bay.
“Does that ship-of-the-line have a name?” Polly asked as Fiorella looked through the telescope.
“She says she is the HMS PORTAGE,” Fiorella said. “But I’m more interested in the dandy strolling about the bridge with an officer dressed as a captain.”
Polly took the telescope from Fiorella. “Well if it Isn’t Jean Molyneux,” she gasped. “Loretta was betrothed to him before she found out he was dealing in slaves. She’ll be sorry she didn’t get a chance to … shoot him.”
            “She may get her chance yet.”  Maggie said. They followed her gaze to where the soldiers had made landing and were dividing into small groups and starting to search the beach. “When they don’t find us near the water, they’ll move inland. It’s only a matter of time before they discover the trail that leads to this cave.”
            “We should leave,” Renny stared at the cave opening.
            “If whatever is inside that cave hasn’t eaten us yet, it probably won’t,” Fiorella said. “It would be best if we spent the night right here. We can look down on the beaches around the entire island. It’s good to know where our enemies are … and when they come.”
The women didn’t relax until they saw the soldiers making camp far below them. By then several of them were wet and shivering. “Build a fire and perhaps light a few torches between us and the opening,” Maggie suggested. “King Georges’ soldiers won’t be able to see the light from the beach and I’ll feel safer if the monster in that cave has to tromp through some flames to get to us.” That sounded sensible; most of the women carried knives, and made short work of hacking tree limbs into firewood.  In a short time they had a cozy fire and three torches blocked the entrance to the cave. They spent their last waking hours twisting vines into several ropes. They also wove two baskets. One was large enough to carry Loretta. “Down the cliff might be our only way out of here,” Maggie told them.

            Fiorella spent a great deal of her time caring for Loretta. Her former employer appeared to not only have a concussion but a fever as well. Near midnight, Fiorella moved the unconscious woman closer to the fire and covered her with a piece of sail from the skiff. The fever finally broke near morning and she muttered a thankful prayer. The women were all sleeping, Renny was snoring. The sun was rising from the ocean in the east when Fiorella yawned … and her eyes slowly closed.

-------2-------

            “Where is she?” Polly was pulling pieces of sail off sleeping women and searching through bushes.
            “Who?” Fiorella yawned and then jerked upright.
Polly pointed to the discarded sail and the empty bed of leaves Loretta had been sleeping in. “Loretta!”
Fiorella gasped. “Her fever broke during the night!” Then she moaned. “The captain must have come awake … after I fell asleep.”
Polly was looking at the torches burning in front of the cave entrance. “I seem to remember there were three!”
Fiorella moaned. “What have I done? My mistress has ventured into the lair of that horrible monster … all because I couldn’t keep my eyes open!”
The twenty-two survivors of the ship wreck were awakened by Polly’s boot. They armed themselves with whatever sticks and rocks they could find and started into the cave, to try to save the twenty-third … if they could.

-------3-------

The women in front carried knives and the torches. Near the back of the cavern a huge and terrible shadow created by torchlight loomed against the back wall. It began to move toward them. They raised their weapons and their captain’s voice rang out. “Don’t hurt it,” Loretta commanded. “It only eats mice and bugs … and I think it likes me!”

“What the hell?” All the women stared at the huge creature.
“It’s a giant Moa!” Loretta laughed. “A flightless bird. It’s like a very large ostrich. My father was an amateur Paleontologist and he wanted me to become one. If he could only see me now. These creatures are native to New Zealand but some remains have been found in Madagascar. They were supposed to have gone extinct five hundred years ago. Somehow this one must have survived being hunted for food on this remote island.
            “What on earth are you ever going to do with it?’ Renny asked.
            “I named it after my father,” Loretta said. “I guess it’s one of us now!”


-------4-------

They women carefully tiptoed out of the cave … and Henry followed … snapping his beak and making a strange clicking sound.
            Just after mid-day, Renny and two others, who had been raised on farms, captured a squealing pig and they had it cleaned and roasting over a fire for their evening meal.
With food in their bellies the women felt more cheerful and alert … but they were not out of danger yet.

“Looks like we have more company!” Fiorella pointed as she chewed on a piece of ham. The frigate Mary George that had been their intended target was now anchored beside the HMS PORTAGE.
            “I was wondering how your betrothed got on a king’s ship.” Polly said to Loretta.
Loretta took the telescope from Fiorella and looked. “It’s the bloody Frenchman all right. But I wouldn’t say betrothed … a condemned woman waiting for an execution is more what it felt like.”
When she handed back the telescope Fiorella gasped. “Looks like the bugger is up to his old tricks!”
They women took turns looking. They cursed as they watched as more than twenty terrified women that looked to be from the Arabian Coast were led from the hull of the Portage and across a plank onto the Mary George. “The captain of the Portage and Molyneux must be business partners,” Maggie said. “The king’s captain steals the women and your late-lover sells them as slaves in the Caribbean or some other island paradise.”
            “They’re a long way from home?” Renny suggested.
            “Dealing in slaves will get you hanged in England,” Loretta said. “ Jean Molyneux always was afraid of the rope … and this secret venture shows he values his neck a little too much.”
Fiorella was looking at the beaches. “We’ve got real trouble,” she said. Several of the king’s soldiers were pointing toward the cave. Molyneux could be seen amongst two other boats loaded with men. They were all headed for shore.
            “They must know we’re here,” Renny moaned.
            “And they’re bringing the crews from both ships to make sure we don’t escape.”  Fiorella shook her head. “What do we do now?”
            “Wait until they go in the jungle and start up the path,” Loretta told them. “Then it’s down the ropes for us,” she said.
            “Make sure you find a way to take Henry with you,” Polly said. And I’ll need all your extra clothing! Don’t leave without me. I’ll catch up with you later.”
            “Are you mad?” Loretta asked her first mate.
            “Of course,” Polly said. “But I’ve also got a plan!”

-------5-------

            The women placed Henry in the large basket they had woven the night before. He weighed almost five hundred pounds and it was all they could do to keep the rope from slipping. He stared about as he was lowered down the cliff … snapping his beak and making that strange clicking sound. Loretta did not want to leave her friend behind … but Polly insisted.
The women waited, hidden in some brush just off the beach until it was after dark. It was a full moon and lights from the two ships glistened in the water along with the globe from the heavens.
Henry was grazing nearby. “It’s a shame we have to leave him,” Maggie said.
            “If we’re to act we must do it now!” Fiorella told the others.
            “We’ll take the ships,” Loretta said trying to see up the cliff side. “But I swear I’ll not leave this bay without Polly!”
            “Let’s hope that won’t be in a box,” Maggie told her.

-------6-------

            There were only a half dozen soldiers left to guard the HMS PORTAGE with the captain on shore, the remaining men seized the chance to get into the ship’s store of rum. A guard near the starboard stern heard a splashing from the water and went to investigate. His eyes nearly popped from his head when a pretty girl with sea-weed in her hair appeared in the water … naked from the waist up. “Who are you?” he demanded.
            “We are the daughters of Neptune come to welcome you to our island,” the girl giggled. Just then two more lovelies appeared in the water beside her;  neither was shy about showing their breasts.
            “Mermaids?” The guard dropped the bottle he was holding.
            “If you want to see our tails … you’ll have to swim with us,” the first girl said.
            “Walter! Charles! Henry and David!” the guard yelled. “Get over here now! The lot of you ain’t going to believe this!”
The guards cheered and drank heavily as a half dozen near naked beauties frolicked in the water. They were to  o busy enjoying the sights to notice the fifteen other women climbing up the port side.

-------7-------

            The sails were all rigged on the Mary George. The ship-of-the-line was too large for their needs and had to be abandoned with the prisoners locked in the brig. A key was left behind, but it would take them days to find it.
A brisk wind was starting to blow. All the pirates had to do was weigh anchor and they would be off. Loretta gazed toward the island one final time. “She must have been captured … or worse,” Fiorella told her. Several of the women were crying.
There were others that needed protecting. Someone had to make the hard choices. “Let’s be off then,” Loretta said. Her voice was no more than a whisper … still it broke. Her eyes were flickering candles … dripping sadness. “I’m so sorry Polly!”

-------Post-------

            Just as the anchor was hoisted and the sails filled with wind there was a splashing in the water. It was a miracle anyone heard. All the women rushed to the deck rails and then they began to laugh. “I had a hard time catching him,” A dripping Polly said as she climbed aboard. “It’s a good thing Henry can swim!”

“There were plenty of Moa tracks leading into the cave,” Polly told them later. The ten foot tall flightless bird was eating from a barrel of grain and the frigate maneuvered around the huge rock without difficulty. “I used the pig blood from the cooking basket and some of your torn clothing to make it look like we’d all been killed and dragged into the monster’s lair.”
“Then what happened?” Everyone was fascinated by her story.
“It took forever for them to venture inside. If the king knew he had such cowards in his royal service they’d all be whipped. When the soldiers, the two captains and Molyneux finally did go in the cave I danced on the roof,” Polly said, “I nearly collapsed with the rocks! They’ll all get out eventually … if they don’t die of hunger and probably after a week of heavy lifting.”

-------Post plus one-------

            Twenty one women captives had been freed from the hull and they crowded the deck. Most had been sold by prospective bridegrooms and clergy that they trusted. None wished to return to their former homes. Polly was doing a head count and she suddenly laughed.
            “What is it?” Loretta asked.
            “A magic number!” Polly laughed. “We are once again the forty-four!”
And as the soon-to-be-renamed Sea Witch sailed from the remote island, even the new women captives were persuaded to remove their niqābs and join in the laughter and the song.
Henry snapped his beak and made a strange clicking sound.

“Beyond the waves that ply these shores … to ocean’s dreadful end.
            We hope to never use our oars … with gold enough to spend.

The Gods look down upon us … with scorn and malice hot.
No sympathy, no tears are shed … for women who are not.

            A coastal tavern dim or bright … will buy the life we need.
            And plant a fortune in our hearts … from lusting’s tiny seed.

            To want of wind and company … we seek nothing more.
            And all the seas belong to us … we mighty forty-four …”


THE END?




Sunday, July 12, 2020

SHIP WRECK part 2

Copyright (c) 2020 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.




SISTERS OF THE SEA
SHIP WRECK
Part 2

By R. Peterson

Jagged rocks and coral rose above the waves as Polly, Maggie and two others managed to navigate through the storm and bring the lifeboat to shore. They were wet, cold and exhausted. If the wind and rain hadn’t kept pushing, the women would not have endured.
 Captain Loretta DuPont lay in the boat’s bottom … delirious and suffering from a head injury. Just before they reached the sand, the battered Sea Witch, behind them, listed to starboard, broke apart and sank. Everyone gasped at the sight, but they were too broken themselves to stare for long. Only a fragmented-mast and torn-rigging showed above the churning water. The dense fog that had plagued the women pirates appeared to be lifting and the Island they were on looked large … perhaps even habitable.
Two more lifeboats appeared farther down the beach with a small cluster of ragged and shivering women huddled around each one. One of the boats was still partly in the water and had a jagged hole near the bow.
None of the women seemed surprised to see a wet, near naked and ravaged Fiorella moaning on the sand like a beached whale. “Looks like our captain’s handmaid got her kiss,” Polly mused. “But it wasn’t Davey Jones … perhaps Neptune had pity for her broken-heart and decided not to taste her with his fork!”
While Maggie and the two rowers carried the captain onto the beach, Polly grabbed the bottle Maggie had found bobbing in the surf from the bottom of the boat and removed the cork. “What a festivity!” She laughed. Polly lifted and pressed the bottle against her lips. Her tongue desperately searched for a last drop of rum as she staggered onto the sand. With her hair wet and her clothes dripping she looked like an abandoned child. “But now me thinks … I might be sick!” She threw the empty bottle toward a pile of tide stones. It didn’t break, and she fell to her knees and gagged.

-------2-------

                Loretta was the first concern when the women found each other. They decided she must have a concussion. Fiorella bandaged her captain’s head with strips of her petticoat.
“Does anyone know where we are?” Polly asked.
                “Somewhere west of Madagascar and east of Africa,” Maggie told her. “All my maps went to the bottom along with the ship’s clock.”
                “Not too bad,” Polly said. “I thought this might be hell.”
 They decided what they needed first was shelter. Of the forty-four so far only twenty-three had survived the shipwreck and re-grouped. Some of the women were crying … most were in shock. Fiorella amazed everyone by pulling the metatarsal telescope from the top of her blouse. “You didn’t think I’d let our treasure go to the bottom did you?”
                “There was a king’s ransom in gold in two chests in the hold,” Polly vowed as she stared at the broken mast swaying in the distance. “If this storm ever breaks, I’ll show you why my papa said I was half fish!”
Fiorella was scanning the island. The telescope swept along the coast line, then swung back to linger on a cliff high above them. “It looks like a cave up there but we’ll never reach it from this side,” she said. “It’s time to move inland!”
They pulled the boats off the sand and hid them then they used oars and torn canvas to make a litter for their captain.
 “What’s wrong with spending the night here?” Maggie asked as they looked for a path in the jungle.
                “Yes! What if more of us show up?” Renny was still scanning the beach looking for her sister.
                “We’ll be able to see most of the island from up there,” Fiorella told them. “If any show up we’ll fetch them.
“That ship-of-the-line that crushed our stern, might think we’re a bit of fun.” Maggie agreed. “We don’t want to make our capture too easy!”
                “Let’s hope our enemies hurry,” Polly moaned as she slapped at a mosquito. “I’d rather hang in London than be eaten alive by Madagascar’s restless natives!”

-------3-------

                Two long hours later, they stopped by a fast moving stream and decided to rest. The cave near the top of the cliff was reachable from the jungle side and there was even a kind of rugged path leading to it.
A monkey scrambled up a tree. A bunch of them chattered, and seconds, later Renny was hit with a coconut. Polly chased the apes away with some well thrown rocks.
They placed Loretta in the shade and several of the ladies soaked their feet. The water held tiny vibrant colored fish that none had seen before. The mosquitoes were still feeding.
                “What kinds of beasts take shelter in caves?” Maggie asked as she looked closely at the ground.
                “Bears, lions and pirates without ships,” Polly suggested as she splashed water on her swollen arms and face.
                “These aren’t no cat or bear tracks,” Maggie said as her eyes grew wide. “I’ve never seen anything like them!”
They gathered around. None of the women had. The clawed monster that left the prints looked as large as an elephant. A grieving Renny was summoned; her sister Penny hadn’t yet made it to shore. “We’ve got two problems,” she told them as she studied the print’s depth. “Whatever horrible creature made these marks … weighs close to half a ton!”
                “I hope it’s a turkey,” Polly stammered. “What’s the second problem?”
                “The storm is coming back!” Fiorella wailed. She raised her arms and as if dark clouds had been hiding and listening … it began to rain buckets.
                “Let’s hope that whatever this beast is … it likes to cuddle,” Polly told them as they ran and splashed toward the cave.

--------4--------

                “No way am I going in that door to hell without a light!” Renny shivered. The women were once again wet and cold as they shivered next to the huge hole in the cliff side. At least the rain had stopped, for a moment. Fiorella scanned the beach and the coast with her telescope.
                “Whatever we do we must do it fast!” The ship’s navigator pointed.  The British man-of-war could be seen cruising just beyond the breakers.
                “I’ve been wanting to do this for years,” Maggie told them as she removed her blouse tore it into strips and wrapped the cloth around the end of a stick. One of the girls from the boats had matches. The first two were wet … but the third flamed.
                “After you!” a near top-naked Maggie suggested as she looked at Loretta’s former handmaid.
                “Me?” I’m not the leader of this wretched, variegated crew,” Fiorella grumbled, but as she advanced cautiously into the cave and the rest followed.
The cavern wasn’t as large as they had first suspected and Polly’s humor returned when the cave appeared to be empty. “The largest and most beautiful always leads the way,” she said. “That way … while she is being eaten the others can escape.”
Several women laughed.  Fiorella stopped and looked more terrified than ever. Polly shook her head. “Really Fiora! Don’t you know I’m jesting?”
An ungodly moan came from the gloom that made everyone’s hair bristle. Fiorella pointed and the others stared. A pair of too-large, menacing eyes blinked in the darkness at the back of the cave. Someone screamed. The thing towered at least four feet above their heads. The cavern floor shook and small round stones fell from the ceiling and rolled in all directions.
It was coming!

TO BE CONTINUED …



Sunday, July 5, 2020

Sisters of the Sea SHIP WRECK

Copyright (c) 2020 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.



SISTERS OF THE SEA
SHIP WRECK
By R. Peterson

“We’ve a nasty-fog and a three mast purse running off the port bow,” Pollyanna Nottingham called from the enclosed platform high atop the main mast. “Her waterline lingers just below her gun ports. King George surely must be soaking his feet in the bilge … as he counts his gold!” Captain Loretta DuPont signaled Polly with a wicked smile showing that she had got her report on the potential booty while her former hand maid Fiorella quickly searched for the chase with a spyglass. “Ah! Just a wink.”
            “Did you perhaps spy a jack to go with fat George before she vanished?” Loretta asked the ship’s gunner as she finished the last swallows from a bottle of rum. In fact the entire crew was drunk. Someone had discovered a lost cask in the hold and a celebration was underway. The fog and the storm had fell on them suddenly.
            “Aye,” Fiorella said carefully placing the stolen metatarsal telescope, finely-crafted in Rotterdam, into a wooden case just as Polly slid down the halyard. “She does in fact call herself the Mary George and she showed all the lads a Red Ensign before she slipped into the bed-sheets.
            “A Royal bumper then?” Loretta snickered as she paced the deck. She corked and then threw the empty bottle into the sea. “A message for my mother!”
            “Lads?” Polly laughed as she dropped from the crow’s nest. “We’ve but forty-four soiled wenches aboard this tub … and that’s being over generous.”
            “Perhaps our king desires a dirty kiss.” Loretta suggested.
            “The truth of our lot brings me to tears.” The more than three-hundred pound Fiorella looked ready to weep. “It was nine, October of 1796 when I last had a scratchy beard wetting my neck. It was inside the Blue Dolphin in London. He was drunk of course and mistook me for a pretty-boy sailor! But these Keelhaulers we’re chasing thinking we be men … might give us an edge.”
            “There be no king in that tub but maybe rum, so do we dare the mist and the Devil’s breath to take her?” Polly asked.
            “How much of a dive is it to Davy Jones’ sea chest?” Loretta called to Alison Drescher who had been pulling line at the bow ever since the pirate ship approached the fog. Margaret Waldheim, the ship’s navigator was holding the wheel at helm while the stout sisters, the former farmwives, Penny and Renny rolled a second twenty-pounder across the upper deck.
            “I show three fantom and falling,” Allison yelled back as she lifted the weighted and knotted rope.
            “Mice will flee even a tiny tempest … but not the wise with our thicker tails,” Penny boasted.
            “We’ll be hanged yet … though every drop of water swear against it!” Loretta laughed with Renny as she remembered the words from a famous London playwright.
            “Captain,” Polly said. “We’ve got more than an overloaded freighter and fog to vex us.” She pointed to the dark, rolling horizon behind them. “I don’t need a spy lens to see that’s a cruel squall sneaking upon our backside.”
As if the collaborate Polly’s remarks, a gust of wind blew up Loretta’s short dress which she wore over men’s pants. She smiled as she smoothed it down with her hands.
“Drop the skirts and go in tender,” Loretta ordered the eager women crowded around her. “I smell gull nests … even if I can’t hear them. No treasure buys a scratched hull!”
Polly laughed. “You sound more like a pirate every day!”
Seventeen women scampered up the rigging to lower all but one small sail. Another twenty others hurried below deck tamping cannon and loading muskets. The day’s prize was just a fight away.
And the Sea Witch slowly sailed into the treacherous vapor.

-------2-------

                It was beginning to feel like a trap … but a merry one. There was no one better at the ship’s wheel than Maggie Waldheim but the haze thickened and she gasped as she narrowly missed a huge rock that loomed out of the fog. “That tide-stone was as large as a Pompey knocking-shop!”
“Bring the paddles from the bilge,” Loretta ordered. “We might have to push away the next bugger that fancies a hug!”
A dozen women who had just finished taking down all but one sail went below deck to retrieve the twenty foot oars which were kept for emergency use when accosted by doldrums.
By the time the oars were brought on deck it was already getting dark. Six women manned both port and starboard sides with their long poles stuck out like quills. A couple of women began to sing … and then the entire drunken crew did.
            Drip us in the water … but none will ever drown.
            We’ll rot inside a tower cold … if hangman can’t be found.

            To wear a rope is braided gold … around our perfect necks.
            Is what we pray to Neptune’s Gods … with knees upon the decks.

            So push the storms upon us … and wash us with your rain.
            Until the gallows call to us … we’ll never know the  pain.

            So close the door on sinking ships … and open it no more.
We were ever born to hang … us  mighty forty-four.”

Lighting flashed and illuminated a nightmarish scene as Maggie held her breath, steered the ship away from a jagged reef and then breathed to the sound of applauding thunder. Renny and Penny each snapped an oar. The side of the hull sounded like a bear growling as it scraped the mossy rock hidden below the surface. It began to rain madness. Icy sheets of water tumbled from the sky and were quickly picked up and flung by an angry wind.
The witch is thirsty … and she’s drinking!” One of the women from below deck reported with a smile.
“Leaking?”
“Maggie! Get us out of here,” Loretta ordered.
Harsh winds were blowing away the fog. The navigator had the Sea Witch halfway turned when another flash of lightning showed the merchant ship they’d been pursuing slipping between two wave-tossed reefs. “Let fat George have his hellish harbor,” Loretta yelled. “If he thinks this be safety … his hull must be loaded with hatter’s rats!”

-------3-------

            By the grace of providence, or by expert seamanship, the pirate ship was somehow fleeing the tempest. Most hands topside delicately angled the single sail as the Sea Witch sailed against the wind. It was once again growing light as if an entire night had passed and not less than an hour. They passed the knocking rock and hoped to be free of the storm when a final flash of lightning struck terror into the hearts of all the women on deck. A sixty gun ship-of-the-line passed through the Sea Witch’s wake and narrowly missed crushing the stern.
            “When the Devil throws a party all of England comes a running!” Polly gasped.
There was little time to laugh … or even smile at her joke. A startled royal sailor manning a stern gun near the huge British ship’s aft fired once before they were out of range and wood fragments exploded as a twenty pound ball of iron split the hull and crushed the Sea Witch’s rudder.
The huge Man of War vanished into the daylight as the fatally injured pirate frigate was once again blown back into the nightmare. This time six oars broke and the center mast bent wildly and then snapped as the ship crashed into the rock.
Three women with oars were swept over the side. The wind, huge waves and the leaking hull kept the frigate from righting itself.
            “We’re sinking!” A woman gunner screamed as the terrified crew from below swam onto the deck.
            “Into the barrels if we can!” Loretta yelled just before a piece of broken mast knocked her to the planks. Polly and Maggie helped her to her feet; her head was bleeding. It took precious moments to untangle line about her legs. Then a wave washed them all over the side.
The Sea Witch had six assorted longboats each one with a capacity of up to twelve sailors. Only three made it into the water before water washed over and submerged the decks. Less than ten women left the sinking ship in the boats … the rest sank or flapped about in the water. Cries of help were muted by the wind or even more ghastly … smothered by bubbles.
Maggie and Polly swam through the wild and churning sea and somehow managed to lift their injured captain into a dinghy with two women rowers. “Where are the sharks?” A dripping Polly demanded. “We were promised sharks!” A wide eyed Maggie plucked a floating bottle from the waves. “A message to your mother?”
Loretta seemed disoriented - half out of her mind. Not even the insane wit of Polly could lift her spirits. She slipped from their hands suddenly and stood up nearly capsizing the craft. The wind and the rain blew her hair outward on all sides. Blood ran down the sides of her face and her eyes shone as bright as stars. With her arms outstretched, she looked like a banshee showing terrified travelers the way to doom!
“I tremble in the shallows! But I still pay the Devil for his bits of treachery!” Loretta screamed before they pulled her back down.

TO BE CONTINUED …