Or should I say, "Ahoy, mateys!" As a change of pace, I have become inspired by the cutthroats from 1665 Port Royal, Jamaica Colony. The rogues, the privateers, the Commanders, the pomp, the rough-in-tumble rowdy whorehouses, and the sexy men found therein have taken up my imagination and I need to write them!
The story I'm working on is called FOR THE LOVE OF A PIRATE and follows Emily Davenport, a lady of high society whose parents died from the plague in Bristol. She was shipped to Jamaica Colony to live with her uncle, Sir Charles Davenport, Governor of Jamaica Colony. She is a fish out of water! Port Royal is riddled with crime, debauchery, and lack of decency. Her refined ways are about to be redefined by a devilish pirate eager to make her his lady!
Black-eyed Sam was your average pirate--he captained a stolen, or shall I say, "commandeered" Spanish main, loved floozies and women with no moral compasses, drank rum to the break of dawn, and thieved and plundered whatever he could get his hands on. All that comes crashing to a halt on the day of his hanging. Having been caught by the genteel Commander James Alcott, a dashing man by all accounts, Sam finds himself at the end of a noose. Instead of succumbing to death, he manages to escape by kidnapping the Governor's niece, Emily Davenport.
I have only written the first chapter so far, but I have it here for your reading pleasure! Enjoy!
Emily Davenport nearly leapt out of bed when the
first gunshot rang a loud. It had been
two days since her arrival in Port Royal, Jamaica Colony and each night, each
day, each hour, gunshots cracked the sky like rowdy thunder. She hadn’t been able to sleep properly. Although her room was on the third floor of
the governor’s mansion, far above the common squabbles down below, she still
wondered if some thief or bawdy lowlife would somehow crawl up the walls and
scramble into her bedroom window.
The Governor’s Mansion was an impressive building
with a red-tiled roof, cream-colored bricks, and a multitude of always locked
windows. It was the only building over
one story tall and so it stood out amongst the rabble of other buildings.
Emily slid out of bed and eyed the port below. The morning ritual of marching soldiers from
the local garrison headed north along the boardwalk, occasionally arresting the
drunks and loading the dead bodies into wheel barrows. In Port Royal, if you died where you fell,
your funeral was not memorialized. A
larger fellow’s body was hoisted into the wheel barrow and it landed with a
resounding thump nearly as loud as the gunshots. Emily winced.
Life in Port Royal was unlike her life back in
Bristol. Although, there were many
things similar. Both of her parents had
died from the plague and many cutthroats here died from dysentery or infection
so it was almost the same. Her parents
had passed away a few months ago and she had been transferred to Port Royal to
live with her uncle, Sir Charles Davenport, Governor of Jamaica. It was either choose this life or marry a
noble from the King’s Court. It would
have been pretty to choose a suitor from the Royal Court, but they were all
very old men and Emily had found herself not interested in them. It was rare to be given a choice, but she
thought she had chose wisely. Perhaps she
should have remained with an elderly count rather than watch as the bloated
bellies of the dead jiggled with maggots.
She covered her mouth as the wheelbarrows full of
dead passed her by. She dared not
breathe in death.
Her gaze traveled across the now bustling
cobblestone road, the only one in town, toward the docks. She saw the rocking thicket of masts,
hundreds of different kinds of ships, some large and some small. They cracked under the ocean waves while
gulls cawed loudly. It was never quiet
in Port Royal.
She watched as a new ship entered the harbor. Its white topsails were unreefed as it
slowly came closer into view. Two
longboats had gone to meet the ship in order to guide her in.
A knock on the door stole Emily’s attention from the
window. She turned her head as her
servant girl, Sarah, entered the room.
“Good morning, Ms. Davenport,” she said with a thick
Scottish accent. As much as Emily
detested the Scots, she had to admit her maidservant did her job well, “I have
brought your breakfast,” she placed the tray delicately down on the table, “Are
you looking forward to the hanging today?”
“There is to be another hanging?” Emily asked, “There
was one yesterday in which five men were hanged until dead.”
Sarah looked shyly down and replied, “Begging your
pardon, but there are hangings here on nearly a daily basis.”
Another gunshot shattered Emily’s musings and made
her leap a little from the window, “I can see why.”
Emily walked toward the table and sat down in the
chair, sloping her shoulders. Her near
perfect posture was obliged to wait until after breakfast. Emily cased her servant girl. Sarah was prettier today than she had been,
she had a soft glow in her cheeks, her hair had been washed, and although it
was disheveled, it had been pulled back into a loose bun, “You look fine this morning,
Sarah.”
Sarah blushed profusely and smiled showing her
missing front teeth, “Thank you, Ms. Davenport.
The rosewater is ready when you are.”
“Thank you, Sarah.
Will you wash the back of my neck?
It feels…” she couldn’t quite place the word that described the grime,
sweat, or filth on her person. The
constant humidity and lack of air circulation was stifling.
Sarah dipped a hand towel in the small basin and
placed the lukewarm water on Emily’s neck.
Emily nearly shrieked with the dousing, “I am not bathing, girl! Be more careful with how much water you
apply!”
“Yes, Ms. Davenport.
I beg your pardon, Ms. Davenport.”
Emily brushed the apology aside, “Other than the
hanging, what does my day look like?”
Emily was not one for itineraries, but of late, she did hanker for some
life in her day. She was exhausted of
sitting around looking pretty and she wanted something new. Then again, that was what had brought her to
Port Royal—adventure. Now, she had too
much of it.
“If you like, Ms. Davenport, we can stroll along the
boardwalk and take in the local sights.”
“Why would I do that? I have seen the men that roam along the
roads. They are not gentlemen.”
“No, Ms. Davenport, but Commander James Alcott is a gentleman
and he would like very much to walk with you this day.”
Emily turned to face her servant with slight shock
on her face, “Commander James? From the
dinner last night?”
Sarah nodded with a big smile, “Yes, Ms.
Davenport. And if you don’t mind me
being so bold, he is a fine prospect.”
Emily returned the nod, “Indeed he is.” She
sighed. Commander James Alcott of the
local garrison was a fine man. He had a
strong chin, sharp blue eyes, and beautiful golden blonde hair. He was young for a Commander. Perhaps that was why crime ran rampant in the
streets of Port Royal. He was
inexperienced. She had it on good
authority that the only reason Commander James Alcott had this post was because
his mother was a particular favorite of the King. Many times his mother had felt the King’s
abdomen upon hers. Then again, gossip
was a foul source of factual information.
“He will also be at the hanging, Ms. Davenport. Did you know he single-handedly caught the
pirate they will be hanging?”
Emily once again turned around her seat, “Come
around to the front of the table so I can see you. Constantly craning my neck is exhausting.”
“Yes, Ms. Davenport.”
“Is this true?
A pirate?”
“Yes, Ms. Davenport.
His name is Black-eyed Sam.”
“What sort of Christian name is that?”
Sarah shrugged her shoulders, “I do not know, Ms.
Davenport. I only know that is what he
known around these parts.”
“I see.”
Well, the hanging might be interesting today. She didn’t bother to attend the hanging
yesterday, nothing but murderers that day.
A pirate was an occasion. Her
uncle specifically mentioned there weren’t any pirates in Port Royal but if
there were, they would be hanged on sight.
Emily placed her sugar roll back on the plate, “Bring
me the rosewater.”
“Yes, Ms. Davenport.” The water in the basin slightly splashed out
of the bowl as Sarah placed it on the table.
She removed the dishes and the uneaten food while Emily dipped a silk
handkerchief into the rosewater and rubbed her teeth. She
spat out the water.
Emily then rose and dressed for the day. If she was to be out walking under the hot
sun, then she would forego the tedious corset.
She was thin enough to skip the corset for one day, at least. The several thick underskirts already
weighed her down while the top weighed more than an ox yoke.
She sighed under the weightiness of her garment as
the final dress was tied tightly around her.
She had chose a red and gold number with extensive embroidery around the
wrists and midsection.
Emily stepped back a pace and allowed Sarah to
survey her. Sarah adjusted the sleeves
slightly and then nodded her approval, “Breakfast will not be served this
morning. Sir Charles has to be present
at the hanging which he does not wish to delay.
I have already summoned your carriage,” she gestured toward the door.
“Will you be with me today, Sarah?”
“Only if you wish it, Ms. Davenport.”
As much as having a servant with a proper lady was
offensive, Emily enjoyed the company. It
was rather a pleasant change conversing with a woman than the men. Most of the genteel men in Port Royal were
bachelors although they never had a cold bed.
Their morality was far from moral.
“I do, Sarah.”
“Very good, Ms. Davenport.”
Emily walked down the staircase, already profusely
sweating under the heavy garments, her once clean neck becoming grimy again and
headed toward her carriage.
Thank you all for stopping by! :-D
