Swords swinging, Captain Bear and his new mate Pete fought off at least a dozen of the Royal Navy’s best. As Bear parried the thrust aimed at his chest, he noted Pete’s skill. Pete had obviously picked up his fighting moves on an as-needed basis. More learn-or-be-killed, less this-is-the-right-way-to-hold-a-sword, Pete’s style lacked finesse but had the advantage of confusing the well-trained Navy. Bear vowed to get back at the informant who said that the ship was carrying a skeleton crew. It was supposed to be an easy haul.
“You can’t escape this time, Bear, you are outnumbered,” said the Commodore
“Have some respect, lads, can’t you see I’m wearing the black bandana? Mourning the loss of my beautiful Janet.”
“Janice, Captain. Her name was Janice,” interjected Pete.
“Janice,” Bear shot a look at Pete, “was very special to me. In her honour we will relinquish our weapons. I accept your invitation to join you for afternoon tea.” Laying down his sword, he held out his wrists. Pete had no option but to follow suit.
“It won’t be tea you’ll be having as a guest at the governor’s gaol. New design on the lock of those cuffs. Bear-proof, we call them.” The Commodore secured Bear’s hands, laughing at his own joke.
Bear bobbed his head in acknowledgement of the jest. Pete was the only one to notice that the glint at Bear’s temple was gone when he raised his head.
“On second thought, lads, I think I’ll skip tea this afternoon.” In one motion, Bear dropped his handcuffs to the deck, replaced the lockpick in his bandana and dove overboard.
Pete looked up at the sky. ” Commodore, while I’m sure that capturing Captain Bear would be quite a feather in your cap, those dark clouds tell me there’s an autumn squall headed this way. I give it ten minutes before we’re being tossed about, wouldn’t it be prudent if we headed to port?”
The Commodore followed Pete’s gaze and his eyes widened. “Lads, set the sails for home. We’ll ride out the storm by a cozy fire in the Muddy Rudder. Brandy’ll have mutton and mead warm when we get there.” More than a few eyes looked at the Commodore with enthusiasm. The younger members of the Commodore’s crew were pleased at the thought of a glass of mead served by the curvaceous Brandy, while the old salts anticipated a hot meal. None of them were interested in searching for Captain Bear. The Commodore read their minds. “Bear won’t last long in these waters with this storm coming. FULL SAIL.”
Pete looked at the Commodore with hope. “I could use a glass of warm mead and some mutton. I just signed on with Captain Bear. Clearly this was not a good choice. He abandoned me at the first sign of trouble. Any room for me on your crew?”
The wind was picking up and the whitecaps further out to sea were suggesting a 40 knot wind. The Commodore considered. “We’re not going to make it.” He turned to Pete, “Any good with the rigging? Could use all hands with these winds. Not like you are going anywhere.” Pete held his hands out and with a complicated click the cuffs released.
The storm hit and the sails boomed. Sailors scrambled to secure lines, weaponry and anything that wasn’t tied down. In the galley, cook gave up on his flying pots and hid himself in a produce crate. The main mast was groaning alarmingly before the Commodore finally gave the command to reef in the mainsail. Pete figured this was his best chance at a job interview and rushed to release the halyard. The sail dropped and he and another mate secured it to the boom. Pete turned away from the wind to catch his breath and saw the beacon at the headlands near the city. Almost there.
“DROP ALL SAIL EXCEPT THE JIB. WE’LL RIDE’R OUT HERE.”
The storm passed as quickly as it hit. A cheer went up. No souls lost. The sun peaked around a cloud as the Commodore ordered the sails raised. All eyes were on the Commodore as he named those who could go ashore. No one noticed a bedraggled pirate in a black bandana drop from the anchor line and swim to shore.
As soon as the gangplanks were in place those named raced off to the Muddy Rudder. The Commodore tagged Pete. “Handled yourself well there, lad. Consider yourself a member of Her Majesty’s Navy. Welcome aboard. First round is on me.”
The Muddy Rudder was packed to the gills and Brandy was run off her feet. She handed out mead and meals and warning looks. Eyes that suggested they wanted something more were met with the back of her left hand thrust at them. A shiny new diamond adorned her ring finger. “I’m an engaged wench now, keep your hands and your thoughts to yourself.” The glow on her cheeks was clearly not from the warmth of the room. A cheer went up from the room. “A toast to the lovely Brandy, may she bear sons drawn to the sea!”
As Brandy swung into the kitchen to fetch more stew, Bear grabbed her by the waist and stole a kiss. “My true love. There has never been anyone like you.”
Brandy beamed. “What the devil caused you to finally make it official?”, she replied.
“Ah, that’s a harrowing tale involving a lockpick, a storm, a turncoat first mate, a smooth-talking pirate and a beautiful wench. A tale for a quiet night by a warm fire. Let’s just say I came to rescue my first mate and instead found my life-mate.”
“A smooth-talking pirate and a beautiful wench. Sounds like the beginning of a fairy tale.” Brandy smiled.
“It is. They will have wonderful adventures, a gaggle of unruly children, and live happily ever after to a ripe old age. That’s the way I’m writing our story.”