Cassielle Dumond paced the small confines of her cabin. It was really little more than a store room with two berths hastily arranged. The captain did his best with the accommodations for her and Murita, she supposed. Her maid certainly seemed pleased with the shared arrangements. Cassie preferred more privacy. What with the men’s superstitions about women on board and tales of blood thirsty demons, her maid could not be blamed for want of company.

Demons indeed! Just a few hours ago she looked out at the calm sea as the sun’s rays splashed into the horizon. It seemed that she could hear the sizzle of the sun as it sank into the depths. Men were foolish creatures if they thought demons roamed these beautiful waters. She let Murita help with her gown as she prepared for bed. As she crawled into the tiny berth afforded her, she said a silent prayer.

Three weeks into her journey aboard the Sea Fairy and Cassie still wanted to jump ship. She pondered every possible angle to get out of this arranged marriage. How could she marry a man sight unseen? He could be an ogre for all she knew. The thought that he bought her weighed heavy on her heart. What manner of man could he be to do such a thing?

In the wee hours of the morning, her door flew inward. She clutched the scratchy wool blanket to her chin straining to see past the glow of the lantern. Who would dare barge into the cabin?

"Beg pardon ladies, the captain says to see you to the longboat." The first mate announced.

"The longboat? Are we sinking?"

"We are under attack. They will be on us soon."

"Attack?" She looked at Murita who thought nothing of her state of dress as she clamored out of the berth. "We are not dressed."

"I will be outside the door, best hurry." He backed out the door to afford the ladies their privacy.

Cassie looked at Murita in stark terror. She shoved herself out of the berth. Hastily, she threw on a dressing gown over her chemise. In the light from the lantern, she found her satin slippers and shot her feet into them. If she survived this night, how would she get to Charles Towne and Lord Edgar? Did she really want to finish the journey? She felt this attack an omen. Did God have a hand in this night? Was the obligation made by her father that she felt duty bound to fulfill being challenged? A blast from the cannons knocked her across the small cabin into Murita. Charles Towne and her obligations be damned. She needed to survive this attack. After it was over, she could see about the future.

"Lady Cassielle, Miss Murita time is of the essence. We must get you off the ship now."

Cassie took no time to secure her long hair. She cared not for her appearance as fear gripped her insides. She swung the door open only to have her eyes assaulted by the smoke from the cannons. Guided by the slight illumination of the lantern, they made their way down the smoke filled passageway. The acrid air engulfed her lungs. She strained to see the man in front of her. As they reached the main deck, he doused the lantern.

"We can get you safely into a longboat and away on the starboard side of the ship. While you make your escape, we will hold them off."

"We are to make our escape? Am I to assume you are not to come with us?"

"Milady, I must stand and fight with my captain," he explained as they hurried to the longboat. "The boat will have everything you need. By God’s grace, we will pick you up in the morning."

The first mate did nothing to calm her fears. Chaos reigned on the darkened deck. The clouds shifted allowing the rays of the full moon to light up the deck and ocean beyond. She could see the crew scrambled in preparation of battle against the black ship headed straight for them. The smell of sweat, gun powder, and something else wafted on the slight breeze. What in heavens name was that awful stench? She looked around for its source but came up clueless. The first mate guided them around the many obstacles in their path to safety. His big hand clamped on her arm when they reached the longboat.

"Tom, here, is a good man. He will see to it you are safely away from harm. If it is meant to be, we will come for you." Tom went sailing over the side of the longboat as he promised the last. The top of his head flapped open by a musket ball. "Blast it, into the boat, pull the canvas sail over you to conceal yourselves. Pray like you never have before."

As they lay in the hull of the longboat, hands clasped to each other as a lifeline of comfort, the two women silently feared the worst. Long into the night, the sounds of death could be heard. Cassie prayed for each man who screamed in agony. She prayed to not be discovered by the band of pirates. Strength would be needed when the sun rose. The clash of metal, the roar of guns, and the sound of tearing flesh reverberated in her ears. The overpowering stench made its way under the canvas. It took what little air they had making it impossible to breath. What hell unleashed itself on the men of the Sea Fairy?

Somehow, as the night progressed, their hiding place remained undetected. She counted them lucky until she heard someone close to the longboat give orders to sink the ship. If they sank the ship, all would be lost. She could not give away their location, but neither did she want to go to a watery grave. Cramped in the small boat still lashed to the side of the Sea Fairy, she felt Murita’s hand tighten on her own. She knew the other woman had heard. What could they do? If they gave themselves away, what would become of them?

The blast of a cannon made her cringe in fear. Where would it land? Would they have time to get off the ship before it went to the bottom of the sea? They needed to get off the ship, but she sat paralyzed by her fears.

"Mistress, what should we do? We are trapped like caged animals."

"I am not sure. I think the pirates have moved on, but I do not want to give us away." She patted the maid’s hand. "Let us wait just a bit longer."

The poor girl must be frightened out of her mind if she heard half of what Cassie did during the night. Her maid also knew what dire straights they were in at the moment. She waited a bit longer. As the night turned to day, the sun climbed higher in the sky. The confines under the sail became unbearable. Before she lifted the canvas, she grasped the handle of an oar for protection.

She gasped in horror as the sight and foul odors on deck met her unbelieving eyes and nostrils. Her stomach rolled. She turned away and emptied its contents into the ocean. Again, slowly she turned back to the deck where the blood and carnage met her anew. A glance at her maid told her she would get no help from that quarter. The woman looked as if she were about to faint dead away. Cassie did not have time for histrionics.

"Murita, look at me!" She snapped her fingers in front of the young girl’s dazed eyes. "We need to get out of the longboat."

"The deck is tres terrible. I do not wish to step foot on it."

Cassie glanced back at the deck. She could very well understand the girl’s misgivings. Blood ran in rivulets across the deck. Body parts were strewn here and there. The carnage of the crew laid bare why they feared this pirate. "We must see if there are any survivors. If not, as I am afraid, then we need to get this longboat into the water. We need to be away from the ship before it sinks completely."

Her knowledge of ships came only from what she read. Her time in Thiberville did not afford for such to be learned. Land locked, she spent her days on horseback or in a carriage. However, she knew the last cannon blast landed in the hull of the ship to ensure it sank. The Sea Fairy seemed to lean towards the leeward side. They needed to do something fast.

"Do you know anything about boats?"

"No, milady, but there seems to be another bearing down on us." She pointed past Cassie.

Cassie whipped around almost throwing both of them into the ocean. She reached out to the splintered rail to stop the dangerous rock of the longboat. With her other hand, she dropped the oar to momentarily shield her eyes from the sun. It indeed was another ship, but were they friend or foe?

"Can you see what flag they fly?"

"Oui, it appears to be a British Royal Navy flag."

"Are we saved by the English then, or is this a worse fate?"

"La, I do not know, Mistress. I have heard stories of the Navy men, how they act when in the port of La Havre. They are too long at sea without women I fear."

"Take up an oar then Murita. I will not have us survive this night only to become some sailor’s doxy."

Cassie watched and waited as the other ship drew near. Fear clutched at her insides, while she clung to the handle of the oar. The English ship drew alongside and used grappling hooks to secure itself in place. Several of the men shinnied along the ropes attached to these to the deck of the Sea Fairy. She heard Murita gasp beside her as one of the Englishmen swung from the other ship. He was tall and broad in the shoulders. Cassie imagined he must be the captain the way he gave orders. He turned and their eyes met. She gulped on the air that suddenly clogged her throat. They should have hidden. Now, she wanted to take a step backwards from his fierce stare, but that would only lead to the ocean. She did the next best thing. Her hand tightened on the oar as she straightened her back and planted her feet. Let him come, she was ready for battle.

"Well, what have we here?" He had the nerve to smirk.

She found her voice somehow, "I am Cassielle Dumond, late of Thiberville, France. This is my maid Murita."

He bowed slightly, "Captain Gabriel Winters, King George’s Royal Navy at your service. May I help you and your maid from your precarious perch?"

Cassie wavered, unsure whether to trust him or not. Murita, she saw, had no qualms about it. She threw down her oar, stepped up to the side and lifted her hand. Cassie noted the man seemed gentlemanly enough in his extraction of her maid. Still, she refused to surrender her oar.

"I assure you we mean you no harm." He smiled as he offered her his hand.

She noticed it did not meet his cold grey eyes. Her looked over the purported captain. Yes, his ship flew the flag of the Royal Navy, however, he looked anything but the distinguished captain. His ebony hair lay long on his collar, his face bore an unkempt beard, and his manner of dress seemed casual, but in the flowing collarless shirt and jack britches he wore he presented quite the figure.

"Captain, the charges are set." A young man with strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes announced.

"Thank you, Devon. See that this young woman gets safely aboard the Eastman." He indicated Murita, "I will see to this one once I convince her out of the longboat."

"Aye, Captain."

"Where are you taking her?"

"To my ship. Now, let’s get you out of there and safely aboard a ship that isn’t sinking."

"Your man, he said the charges were set. What does that mean?"

"Once we have you safely on board the Eastman, we will fire the ship."

"You cannot fire the ship. My things are on the ship. There may be survivors on board. You must check," she blurted in a stream of almost unintelligible words. "We must have the trunks as you can see we are not properly attired."

His eyes, she saw, traveled the length of her from head to toe. She had to resist the urge to pull the dressing gown tightly closed. With a toss of her disheveled hair, she straightened her back and stared him down.

"Your things are the least of my concerns. Now come," he extended his hand again, "give me your hand."

She took the oar up in both hands. "No, not until my things are brought from the hold and you check for survivors."

"Enough of this! We must be away from here," He turned and shouted an order to one of the men.

When he turned back to her, he plucked the oar from her hands as if it were no more than a small stick. He grabbed her about the waist and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of feed. Her rump in the air. She heard the men hoop and holler at their captain’s antics. Her face burned crimson under the tumbled mess of her red hair. Blackness crept over her vision. Not now, no she did not need a glimpse into this man. Bright red blood flowed over another deck in a different place and time. The man who held her firm as he took up the rope and swung them to the deck of the naval ship stood at its center. The oaf did not put her down until he landed like a cat aboard the Eastman. Once on her feet, she backed away from him in fear of what her vision had shown her.

####

The lantern on the scarred table flickered as William "Bloody" Reid blew out a foul breath in exasperation. Somehow, he and his crew of miscreant misfits let a glorious bounty go unfound on the Sea Fairy. A lady and her maid slipped their detection. Witnesses to the carnage his crew bestowed on the plundered ships could be messy. He managed not to leave them. If not dead, they became prisoners. No one remained on any of the ships. It was part of his code.

Two women passengers. How could that be possible on a merchant ship? None the less, it had happened and now he and his crew needed to find these women and bring them back aboard the Scavenger.

His most trusted and loyal friend, Johns, gave him an update earlier when he'd risen for the night. A Royal Navy frigate picked up the women around mid-morning. Johns being on watch during the day set the course to follow at a safe distance, so the captain could avoid the daylight. William concurred the decision during their earlier meeting. The Eastman held part of his booty. He meant to see that the women came to their rightful new owner. The frigate, once captured, would become part of his growing fleet. He closed the log book in front of him with a flourish. Soon, very soon, his new playthings would grace the ship. With a hearty laugh, he rose from the table to see which of their most recent captives to have for dinner.

He picked his barrel-chested frame up from the table and made his way to the hold. As he walked the companionway, his thoughts went to the lady and her maid. The maid was inconsequential. She held no interest for him. His standards dictated that he seek out the lady. The notion of her turning tempted his black immortal soul. A young French damsel could make an excellent wench. His alone. His for eternity.

A vampire wench indeed. The bloody lot could not be trusted. He lived and breathed dead proof of that very fact. Could he really lay all the blame on Corinna? He had heard the warning bells go off in his head as she appeared out of the foggy mist like a wraith on the wind. "Harlot for hire, might be vampire", the saying clanged between his ears but he'd pushed it aside. After all, his very mother was a harlot, but did not seek to drain the blood from her clients.

He reached the hold. Men, who once stood tall and proud as they sailed the Sea Fairy, cowered in a huddled mass of fear. As he searched the lot of them, Corinna popped clear in his mind. Her long ebony hair trailed in ringlets past her tiny shoulders. Aquamarine eyes enticed him to forget the superstitions of lesser men. Intent on slaking his lust, he allowed her to lure him to a darkened alley. He shook his head to clear the memory and choose his dinner.

Back in his cabin, while he awaited his cleaned meal, Corinna came back to his mind. He remembered the first kiss. Cold honey. He leaned in for a second kiss. Sharp fangs lengthened and gleamed in the sudden light from the moon. She grabbed him in a fierce embrace before he could flee or stand and fight. The slip of a girl couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds but she held him firm. It seemed as if the weight of an anchor held him fast to the bottom of the sea. She whispered, licked a spot on his neck under his scraggly beard, then slipped her fangs into the soft flesh at the curve of his neck. The heady sensation of his draining lifeblood left him breathless. She fed long enough to infect him, then shoved him away, leaving him standing there disoriented. Corinna laughed at him in his stupefied state.

The knock on his door brought him out of his retrospections. His dinner arrived, washed and cleaned. Johns anchored the man to the wrist and leg cuffs embedded in the hull of the ship.

"Johns?"

"Aye, Cap."

"Pass the word. Two nights hence, we attack the Eastman."

"Aye, Cap. The women?"

"The men can have the maid. The lady, she is mine."

"Be ye thinking’ o’ wifen, Cap?"

"Not sure. The scurvy lot of ye have had all the women and I am feeling a bit randy."

"Aye, Cap. Not a hair on her head twill be ‘armed."

"Remember, two nights hence. Now, leave me to enjoy my dinner in peace." His fangs lengthened in preparation for the savory morsel chained to the wall.

 This article is copyright to lynnechandler at hubpages 2009.