2
Clarke Griffin sat at the desk in her cabin, still very much in disbelief at finally capturing Alexandria Woods.
It had been almost too easy.
The thought nagged at her. The Lady Vengeance had set sail on her order as soon as she and her crew had boarded the ship--with their captive in tow. It's been a year since the attack on the Arkadia, and she was no longer the weak and helpless lady who would seek refuge should pirates dared to seize her ship. No, she'd learned a lot, and Clarke Griffin would now draw her cutlass to fight back.
She was skilled with the parry and the thrust, what with the countless hours she'd spent learning the lethal dance of sword fighting in close quarters aboard a ship. Her slender figure gave her an advantage, generally making her much nimbler than her opponent as she manoeuvred in places with little room, usually against Bellamy Blake.
She'd been under his tutelage, since the young officer who'd helped her disembark from the Arkadia had left the King's service shortly after the attack. He claimed that he also felt he could serve the Crown better as a free agent, unbounded by the strict regulations that applied to the Royal Navy. And together with him, she plotted and planned how best to recover what they had lost.
With the money Lord Griffin had set aside for her dowry, Clarke had purchased an aging ship and renamed it the Lady Vengeance. Betting everything she had left, she had set sail wanting nothing more than to capture the Commander of the Blood and regain the treasure stolen from her father. It had taken them some time to make it to a port after the pirates had burned their ship and let them adrift. From there, they've boarded a ship that took them to New Providence, where instead of help, her father was met with accusation from the royal governor there, Thelonious Jaha, who suspected her father of being in league with the Commander. He had reasoned to her objection by citing that the pirate had not killed them all, then proceeded to arrest her father and charged him with piracy!
Clarke had pleaded with Jaha to grant her a letter of marque, for a chance to sail an expedition to prove her father's innocence—only to be thoroughly rejected by the governor who had laughed at the idea of a woman serving as a privateer.
She wasn't any ordinary woman, but the daughter of Abigail Griffin who had stubbornly went and treated plague victims at the cost of her own life. The obstinacy ran in her blood; if Jaha wasn't going to grant her a marque, she would damn forge one! It wasn’t just blatant disregard towards the rule either, she needed it to declare her legitimacy at ports and to secure her crew. Otherwise, she would appear to be no more than a pirate herself―and at the mercy of other privateers.
Bellamy had agreed to serve on Clarke’s ship as quartermaster, the second in command. She had promised that when the treasure was returned, the payment for his services would be the ship. He had been an invaluable friend to her. With him, she had managed to obtain a crew. He had instructed her in the art of fighting with a cutlass, and how to fire a pistol with a fair accuracy. The Clarke Griffin after the attack was no longer a damsel in distress―she had two loaded pistols nestled in her belt. Her sword was hung by her side, along with her dagger, yet another dagger tucked into her boot.
All along the Caribbean and the coast of colonial America, Clarke had sent her men into various taverns and pubs to gather information and post bounty notices. Pirates would sometimes leave one ship to find work on another. With enough grog in them, they’d sing like a canary, remorseless.
She'd managed to learn that the Commander was in the habit of burying his treasure shortly after he gained it, favouring an island in the Caribbean for his purposes. Tavern talks also told that if anywhere, the best bet to find him would be on the island, where he'd generally hid himself between voyages. Despite all the stories flying about the ruthless pirate captain, no one was able to tell Clarke where the island was located. He was not only savage, but prudent as well, it seemed.
But what apprentice didn't have a healthy dose of curiosity.
Alexandria Woods, according to rumours, had begun her pirating ways by serving as one of the Commander’s successors, a Nightblood. The closest one to her captain.
“You caught her. Shouldn't you be smiling?”
Clarke looked up and met Bellamy’s dark gaze. He was only 25, fairly young to be the quartermaster of a ship. He had a sense of justice that rivalled her, though. The crew listened when he spoke, and extended the respect to her with him by her side.
“I fear capturing her was the easy part,” Clarke sighed. “Getting her to cooperate is another matter.”
“Are you certain she holds the answer?”
Clarke nodded. Since she began her journey to find the treasure stolen from her father’s ship, she'd learned a great deal about the Commander of the Blood and Alexandria Woods.
“They say she was closer to the Commander than any man. That the Commander treated her almost like his own child.”
“Odd then, that she'd be marooned.”
“She obviously fell into disfavour,” she waited a heartbeat before continuing. “And that might work to our advantage.”
“You think she'll want her own revenge?”
“Wouldn't you?”
“Absolutely. But I wouldn't trust others to help me acquire it.”
“We'll give her no choice.”
“I'm not sure I understand why you're so determined to catch Alexandria Woods when capturing the Commander would give us what we need.”
“My reasons are personal, but I assure you they're justified. And in the end, our current course will yield much more satisfactory results.”
He kept quiet after listening to her answer. As much as he questioned her, he also respected her opinion. The plan she had involved finding the Commander and capturing his ship in order to reclaim the treasure. She knew—they all knew—the Commander wouldn't surrender without a fierce fight. What she wanted, most of all wasn't really the treasure. She sought to free her father from suspicion, clear his name, and give him back his life. To that end, it was necessary for her to not only recover the treasure, but to deliver the Commander—alive—to Governor Jaha.
She shoved back her chair and stood. “I need to talk to our prisoner.”
Bellamy rose in response. “I'll go with you.”
“No, I think it’s better if I go alone.”
“Clarke, that is hardly a wise plan.”
“She’s chained and caged. She can’t harm me.”
“My concern is not about her hurting you, rather her charming you.”
Clarke couldn’t help herself, scoffing at Bellamy’s words. “I despise the very air she breathes. She’s a pirate!”
“With a reputation amongst the ladies,” Bellamy frowned. “I daresay most of the information we gathered on her came from the women she trifled with.”
“I promise you, Bellamy. Her charms will have no effect on me.”
She repeated those words as she stood at the top of the steps leading down to the brig. She wouldn’t fall for her charms. Even the kiss from the rogue pirate was almost erased from her memory. Only in her dreams she sometimes remembered how those lips tasted like, felt like. It was so vivid, so real... she could almost feel the press of the full lips against her own. And she was horrified when later she woke up distinctly remembering the thrill driving her heart at the dreams. Her life had not been lacking the presence of the highest quality of gentlemen. Alexandria Woods? She’s nothing like any of them at all. A scoundrel. A crook. A pirate.
She was the key to returning her father to her.
Carefully descending the narrow steps, she lifted the lantern she was holding higher when something scurried past her. She chuckled at the thought of how curious it was that rats always managed to find their way aboard ships.
Wrinkling her nose at the dankness of the brig rising to assail her nostrils, she spotted Alexandria Woods squinting up at her from where she sat on the floor in her cell, the light from the lantern chasing the shadow, illuminating her face. She glanced briefly at the dark corners; there were no luxuries here. Prisoners kept in in brig didn’t deserve such considerations.
The pirate regarded her with insolence, the full lips she’d once pressed against hers curved in a half smirk. Her flowing shirt had seen better days, and the cheek where Echo hit her was bruised, the firelight dancing off the silver rings in her earlobes. Her blasé attitude made her seemed all the more wicked, and Clarke’s heart thudded in her chest at the sight.
“Alexandria Woods.” She barked the cursed name that had been haunting her after quietly clearing her throat.
She grinned fully at her. “You have me at a disadvantage, milady. I don't know your name.”
“Clarke Griffin. You may call me Captain Griffin.”
Before Clarke could have blinked, her captive had risen to her feet, wrapping har hands around the bars. She was at almost half a head taller than Clarke, towering over her.
“So formal,” the low tones sent shivers down her spine. “After we've been so closely..acquainted.”
“There's no such thing as any form of acquaintance between us.”
“You taste of strawberries,” the brunette licked her lips. “Delicious.”
She would have slapped her if she could, cursing the bars for being in the way. Still, she was privately grateful for their presence. Facing Alexandria Woods in person was much more disconcerting than she thought it'd be. Already she could felt her bravado slipping away.
“You stole that kiss and my ring. I'll have it back.”
Woods’ grin widened at her words, leaning even closer against the bars separating them. “The kiss? By all means, I'll be delighted to.”
“I meant my ring,” she scowled. “You insolent dog.”
“Such a pity, but who am I to deny the captain,” the pirate took a step back, holding up the ring which Clarke can see was hung from a black string tied around her neck. “Come and get it, then.”
As Clarke would give her the satisfaction of taking up her challenge. Did she truly think the captain would deign to enter the cell? She glared at the jolly-looking pirate.
“Keep it. It's worthless anyway.”
“Oh no no,” Woods singsonged, peering through the ring at Clarke. “I wouldn't say so,” she purred.
Clarke narrowed her eyes at their exchange. She didn't know what she had expected. Maybe a little less cockiness. And a little fear. She doubted Alexandria Woods had realised exactly what was going on—or what Clarke wanted her to think was going on. Her marque was forged, after all. Even Bellamy was not privy to the knowledge. But it was to only way for her to acquire an appearance of legitimacy, to get a crew to follow and respect her. Desperation calls for desperate measures. And a mountain of lies.
“Are you familiar with New Providence?”
She simply cocked an eyebrow in response.
“It's in the Bahamas,” Clarke elaborated impatiently.
“I've sailed this seas a good many years. I'm confident I know where it is better than you.”
Clarke gritted her teeth at the answer. “I'm planning to transport you there.”
“Though I most certainly appreciate the kind offer,” Woods affected an apologetic smile. “I'm afraid I'm not interested.”
“It's not an offer. I take it you're familiar with the reputation if it's royal governor?”
“Ah, yes. I understand he's a man of little humour. Poor sod.”
Woods was trying to goad her with her nonchalance. She had no plans to take the bait, but her temper was becoming sorely pricked.
"The King has charged him with ridding the area of pirates. Governor Jaha has the power to try, convict, and execute. He has exercised that power quite frequently of late."
“His mum must be proud of him, I imagine.”
“You are not taking your situation seriously, Miss Woods. It is my intention to deliver you there to stand trial. I shall serve as a witness against your evil deeds, as will Mr. Blake. There will be no other outcome. You'll certainly be found guilty of piracy.”
“I wouldn't want to assume.”
“You'll find yourself dancing the devil’s jig on the gallows.”
“I knew I should've let Anya teach me to dance.”
Clarke huffed in frustration, wondering if this woman in front of her understood what she's saying. For all her idiocy in joining the pirates, she did seem intelligent.
“You'll be hanged,” she repeated firmly.
“Such a ghastly way to go!” Woods clicked her tongue. “Oh dear, I do not think my delicate nerves can take this.”
Clarke’s mouth twitched in annoyance. “Indeed. It's neither pretty, nor is it pleasant.” Not that she had ever witnessed a hanging in person, but she was an artist. Vividly imagining such scene wasn't actually a hard thing.
She let Woods had a moment for her words to sink in, to let him ponder the consequences of the life she'd led and the destination awaiting her.
She cleared her throat. “I have the power to grant you your freedom.”
Woods’ eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, studying her, her half-smirk permanently on her lips. Clarke knew she was smarter than she look, still she wasn't able to make out what she might be thinking.
“Oh? After all the trouble you went to just to capture me? Do tell.”
“I'm not offering you your freedom, but a deal. To trade you for it.”
She winked at her, her cocky grin back in place. “My freedom for a kiss?”
“Stop overestimating your charm,” she tilted her head to meet her eyes directly. “For information--provided that information bears fruit.”
Woods smirked at her. “Oh? About what?”
“The location of the island where the Commander buried his treasure.”
"Even if you found the island, you'd not find the treasure. Have you not heard how he secures his secrets'? By blinding those who help him bury it, leaving them to roam over the island for the rest of their days. They say that when you get near enough to the island you can hear their souls weeping in misery,” she paused briefly. “Well, that is if you can managed to get through the Grounders guarding the island.”
“But you just said no one else knows where his treasures are?”
“They are guarding the island. Meaning that you could hardly take a step further into the island without at least an arrow through your neck.”
Clarke shuddered at the visual. She took a deep breath, steeling up her resolve to get through this encounter without revealing any squeamishness.
“If I can find the island, I can capture the Commander there when he returns to it. I can force him to order his people aside and return the treasure.”
“It's in the Bahamas,” she rattled the bars, startling Clarke. “Now set me free.”
Clarke despised the lapse in her facade. She had strived to be in control of this negotiation, and being so easily undone was not part of her plan. Grasping her mother’s necklace, she shored up her resolution.
"That's not an adequate answer. The Bahamas is a vast area, with more than a hundred uncharted islands. I need more than that. Coordinates, longitude and latitude. I need a precise location."
“You are not kidding me?”
“I assure you, Miss Woods, regarding the treasure entrusted to my father, I never jest.”
“I can't help you. The Commander would have my head strung from his sails, and my blood for dying his new cape.”
“Are you afraid of him?” Clarke taunted.
Woods chuckled. “Hardly. I fear no one.”
“Then you will help me find him?”
“In exchange for my freedom?”
“Yes. I promise that after he had been captured, you will be set free.”
The pirate let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing in the small space of the brig. Clarke frowned, not understanding what she could've found so amusing in her words. When her laughter winded down, she gave her a once over, as though measuring her worth.
“I wonder,” she mused. “A promise is easily given,” her gaze fixated against Clarke’s. “Rarely kept.”
“I will keep mine. You can take my word for it?”
“Your word?” She turned in circles, miming looking for something. “I couldn't see it,” then patted her hands randomly against the walls of her cell. “I can't feel it. It has no substance. Ergo, it does not exist.”
“Many a thing with substance cannot be grasped physically.”
“And I trust not one of them,” she gave Clarke another wide grin. “The same as I don't trust you.”
The frustration clawed at her. How could she convince her? “I owe you. You did not kill me or take me captive when you could have. I'm returning the favour now, but you must help me find the Commander.”
“Echo owed me as well, yet she struck a bargain with you quickly enough. You too will do the same when a better offer comes along.”
“I won't. I swear—”
“Oh save it, captain. I have no interest in your oath, your promises, and in helping you.”
“When we reach New Providence it'll be too late.”
Woods snorted. “I am not a fool. It's already too late.”
“Twenty-four hours. I'll grant you that long to reconsider. At that time we'll decide whether to set course for New Providence or elsewhere.”
The pirate smiled at her, fluttering her eyelashes in mock innocence. Impudent bastard. Clarke spun on her heel to leave.
“Princess.”
She looked back at her, prickled. “I am not a princess.”
Woods shrugged. “You certainly act like one. As though I only exist for the sole purpose of doing as you wish.”
"I can't deny that I consider you beneath me. If I were a boy, I'd spit on you."
"If you were a boy, I would have killed you back in the hold."
The utter conviction with which those words were spoken chilled her.
"Is nothing of value to you?" she asked.
“Hardly,” she gestured towards her. “Don't suppose you'd leave the lantern?”
“Why? The dark scares you?” She almost jeered at her, her loathe at the infuriating woman growing with each passing moment. How could she every thought she had the power to convince her to assist her quest?
“Not fond of the rats. The light keeps them at bay.
Though she should not be surprised at her audacity, she was sorely tempted to leave her in the dark. Let the rats have at him, she would probably come around more quickly with that. But she was not as savage as Woods was. She would not stoop so low.
Hooking the lantern on a peg near the cell, she turned away and started making her way out of the hold after sparing one last look at her prisoner. She would make the other woman cooperate with her one way or another . If Clarke had to take the cat-o’-nine-tails to her back to break her, she would.
*****
Alexandria waited until a few moments after the door above banged shut.
“Echo,” she called out in a quiet voice.
From behind a barrel in the opposite corner of the brig, almost hidden from the light of the lantern, Echo emerged.
“Sha, Heda,” she came close to the cell, passing a slender wire to her. The caged woman herself had one embedded in the heel of her leather boot, but she accepted it anyway, inserting it into the lock on the manacle of her left wrist. She dug it around, listening as the tumblers clinked, right before the manacle snapped open. She quickly opened the other one. If she heard anyone coming, she could put them back on easily enough.
Rubbing her chafed wrists, she took the bit of food and pouch of water Echo wordlessly passed to her, glancing around, taking in her surroundings with the help of the light from the lantern. Nothing much to see. A brig is a brig, after all. She turned to study the girl in front of her.
“That was a rather hard punch, Echo.”
“Forgive me, Heda. I—”
She waved the apology away. “That is alright. I understand why you did what you did,” the constant creaking and rolling of the ship caught her attention. “We've set sail?”
“Sha, Heda. It seems like you're the only cargo they had meant to pick up.”
She took a bite into the bread and cheese Echo had brought her. “Are you sure nobody had seen you coming here?”
“I'm certain. I have been assigned to the galley, just above the brig. So I can come down here easily enough.”
Alexandria nodded absently. Clarke Griffin coming to see her had taken her off guard. Even more surprising was the offer she had made. Seemed to her that rather than Alexandria Woods, the one Clarke Griffin was really after was the Commander. She chuckled deeply, taking a long swig from the water pouch.
“Here,” she handed the now empty pouch to Echo. “Keep your eyes and ears open for anything, understand?” The girl nodded vehemently.
Alexandria leaned back against the wall of her cell, watching Echo quietly hurrying up the steps. She did hit hard, but the pirate had to admit she had brought them closer to her goal.
Now, she would just take her time biding for a chance, to steer this journey, literally and metaphorically, in her direction.
Clarke Griffin wouldn't even saw it coming.
*****
Clarke stood at the prow, staring into the night. The darkness surrounding her felt like it could swallow her whole, only the movement under her feet tethering her to the reality she sometimes believed to have been exchanged with her nightmares that day on the Arkadia.
Bellamy stood quietly beside her. “What did she say?”
Without even looking at him, she sighed deeply. “She refuses to help. I have given her twenty-four hours to consider.”
“What if she is still refusing to help us by then?”
“We'll take her to New Providence,” she wiped her face in frustration.” Then.. I suppose we'll have to redouble our efforts to find the Commander on the high seas.”
“Why not start a rumour that we have treasure on board? The pirates will come flocking to us.”
She shook her head at his suggestion. The thought had crossed her mind, but she dismissed it for the sheer risk such rumours would pose them.
“He's brutal, Bellamy. I would rather we be the ones attacking him.”
“As you wish, Captain.”
She glanced at him. “Will you rename the ship once she's yours?”
“I will,” he turned to face her fully. “I shall rename her Lady Clarke instead.”
She chuckled at his answer. “My good man, that will hardly strike fear into the hearts of pirates.”
“I care little for their hearts,” taking her hand in his, his face was solemn as he looked straight into her eyes. “I care only for yours.”
She pulled away from his gaze, her hand slipping out from his hold as she turned back to look at the sea, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Bellamy was a good man, she admitted. Whom she liked and respected in equal measure. She found it easy to be in his company, she was able to breathe normally around him. Her skin didn't grow warm, her heart didn't pound, and she had never felt her knees growing weak when she was with him.
Bellamy Blake was the soothing presence to Alexandria Woods’ wild one.
She turned back to face him. “I think I shall retire. Tomorrow will be a long day.
He tilted his head in response. “Good night, Clarke.”
Leaving him standing there, she made her way to her cabin, climbing into her bunk after changing out of her clothes into her nightgown.
Now that she had captured Alexandria Woods, perhaps at long last the ruffian would haunt her dreams no longer.