Sandra conceded to his earlier request for her to leave the deck. Once this metaphorical storm passed, they could discuss it properly. She retreated to his familiar quarters, locking the door behind her. She started to tidy up, distracting herself as the seamen did what they had to do. Although she put on a brave face that she was accustomed to wearing as much as the ribbon in hair, Sandra’s thoughts dashed like a swarm of krill startled by a grazing whale. She was cavorting merrily with a real pirate and his crew all this time? She had unknowingly saved a pirate’s life. Sandra did not want to believe it. She sobbed into her own hands when it became too much to bottle up.
Sandra sang to herself as she tried to calm her nerves. It drowned out the ruckus of fighting.
“Maxwell? Is that you?”
The thumping rose to a crescendo. Louder. Faster. Closer. The brunette clamped her hands over her ears. Whimpering, Sandra turned her back to the locked door. The door splintered into an opening. The sixteen year old whirled around. Face to face with the man that Myrtle described. Sandra grabbed a lamp, ready to smash it over the intruder’s head if he touched her.
“You are safe now, ma’am. Put that lamp down. I am no pirate. I am Lieutenant Jordan Lewis. I have come to save you, upon your friend’s request.”
“I do not have any friends.”
“Unless…Myrtle?!”
Lewis caught the lamp, crushing it. Glass sprinkled on Sandra’s feet like dagger sharp crystals of sugar.
“Look at what you’ve done, silly woman. How have you not perished from your foolishness already? Be careful not to cut yourself, Miss Swift. I promised to return you unharmed.”
The older gentleman stood prouder than a peacock in his naval uniform. Extending his hand in duty, not care. He was old enough to be Maxwell’s father. Sandra laid her hand in his with an emotionless stare. He squeezed. Hard. Sweeping her off my feet as if she were his bride for any reason except love. The Lieutenant carried the sixteen year old to the deck of his ship.
“Let me go!”
He obeyed immediately; surprised that a maid had the moxie to shout at him. Myrtle rushed towards the brunette. Myrtle’s face was damp as she threw her arms around her best friend.
“Thank goodness! You are safe. Those nasty brutes! You are not hurt, are you?” Myrtle asked after dashing wildly over to Sandra. Her short hair billowed. She petted Sandra’s face. Her eyes puffy from crying. The clumsy maid swiped at her dripping nose with her sleeve. Sandra comforted the younger girl with open arms. Myrtle cried into the warmth of Sandra’s bosom.
Sandra was more interested in confronting Lieutenant Lewis as he walked away. Sandra pushed Myrtle off and ran after him.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Sandra snapped, catching the tails of his velvet coat.
“Those nasty brutes did not hurt you, did they?” When he asked using roughly the same words, his inflection was nothing like Myrtle’s. She spoke with love and concern. The Lieutenant’s tone was patronising. Sandra wrinkled her nose; cutting him a glare sharper than the sword in his scabbard. She knew he was performing for his crew. She was not buying the snake oil he was trying to sell. In the past, Sandra stopped her Mistress from buying snake oil from men like him.
“Now that you are safe, I have work to do.” The Lieutenant’s fingers drummed the ornate hilt of his sword’s sheath. He pivoted on his heel. His strut put would put a peacock to shame.
“I told you that I was leaving for a few days.” Sandra told Myrtle.
“But I saw-”
“No buts! Your delusional assumptions are going to condemn innocent men to the gallows.”
Sandra doubted their innocence. They were pirates with their hands stained by the blood of innocents, but they were innocent of her alleged kidnapping. She waggled her finger at Myrtle.
“The Lieutenant said-”
“I don’t care for whatever lies that poisonous tongue spits. I KNOW what I saw.”
“You were on the Outrunner.”
Dread washed over her. Sandra froze in her tracks.
“The…Outrunner?”
“You didn’t know?”
The pieces fell into place. Of course, the only frigate to outmanoeuvre the Duchess was the infamous Outrunner. Which meant, by proxy, the man that she fancied was responsible for hundreds and thousands of bloody legends. Sandra watched the colour drain from her cheeks in the reflection of Myrtle’s coffee brown eyes. Sandra’s hands flew to her mouth as she gasped for breath. Regardless, Sandra prepared to make the biggest and boldest mistake of her life.
“Where are you going?” Myrtle panicked.
“I’m saving my friend from the Lieutenant.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“You are right. First of all, I will need a disguise.”
“A-are they like the stories?”
“Pardon?”
Sandra followed the clumsy maid below deck. The ex-maid took a sickle from the wall, using the blade to break into a row of locked trunks. No different to using a knife to skin rabbits and then use the blunt edge of the blade to crack nuts with hard shells. The Lieutenant was going to learn the hard way that Sandra was not like any woman that he had ever met or he would ever meet.
I am cunning. Determined. Irrational.
“What are you doing?” Myrtle squeaked.
“Lock picking. I cannot and will not fight in all these layers of lace and cotton without soiling my clothes.”
Myrtle moved to block her best friend’s exit. The Duchess was built for warfare. What should have been the Duchess’s most luxurious space was sacrificed to allow for more cannons.
“I commend your courage.” Sandra smiled and disrobed where she stood.
Lace and cotton spooled at her feet. Myrtle’s cheeks flushed beet red. The fourteen year old covered her face, muttering about how indecent her beloved Sandra’s behaviour had become.
“If that Lieutenant tries to seduce you again, stab him with this.”
The brunette passed the sickle to her clumsy best friend. Myrtle trembled from head to toe, dropping the sickle. It speared into the floorboards, narrowly missing her own feet.
“Don’t leave again. Please? I don’t want you to die! I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Sandra re-dressed in baggy trousers and a shirt. She smelt the ink soaking Myrtle’s hem before the ex-maid saw it pooling. The ink’s stench was subtle like seaweed washed ashore in a storm.
“Clean yourself up while you wait for me. What would our Master think if he saw you in this state?”
Sandra stashed the sickle in her waistband. Sandra placed one hand on Myrtle’s shoulder. The fourteen year old shuffled her feet, trying to fight back tears.
“I’ll make dinner tonight. What do you feel like?”
What has come over me? I am defending an infamous pirate from the Queen’s Navy.
“I would like to return home.”
“Be patient, Myrtle. We will.” Sandra patted her on the top of her head, causing Myrtle’s heart to race. “How about I cook steamed fish? You love my steamed fish.”
“I do.”
“Myrtle, you have the spine of a jellyfish.”
“Jellyfish don’t have spines.” Myrtle looked puzzled.
“Exactly.” Sandra nodded.
ns 108.162.216.222da2