The Salty Wench

Deep lacerations covered her back in crisscross patterns, and her arms and legs were dotted with deep purple bruises. Slowly, realization of where she was crept in. It had been like this each day for the last two weeks. Beaten half to death each night for not giving in to the lustful wishes of the Captain, then strapped to the mast naked. Leaving her exposed for the crew to gawk at. The events of the past month seeped back into her pain addled brain.

A large wave broke over the bow of the Salty Wench, sloshing water all over the main deck. The splash of the salt water on the young woman's many wounds woke her from her troubled sleep. Slowly, painfully, she tried to get up off of the wooden planks of the ships deck. Unfortunately, she could only make it to a seated position. Her arms were secured with ropes, around one of the smaller masts, on the front of the ship. Looking down at herself, she realized she was a pitiful site. She was completely naked with only her long, flowing, and fiery, red hair to cover her exposed flesh.

She had barely evaded the city guards back in Milan, and was still in hiding, when she met Capt. Monough. She had been looking for passage aboard a ship so that she could safely escape the city. The jewels and furs, liberated from the Mayors manor house, would net her a small fortune. Unfortunately, the Mayor wasn't as happy about it as she was, and had mobilized the entire Milan militia to search for her. Capt. Monough had agreed to take her as far as South Africa on his schooner ship, The Salty Wench. Of course, this would cost her a pretty penny, since she was a wanted criminal. Capt. Monough himself was a well-kept Haitian man. He dressed in the typical foppish sea captain garb, long red coat over a frilly white silk shirt. His skintight black leggings tucked neatly into his calf high leather boots. A large, floppy, black hat with a white peacock feather sat crooked on his head to cap off the ensemble. He had the coal black skin of the common Haitian, and his two front teeth were capped with solid gold. Large hoops of gold hung from his ears, his face was framed by a neatly shaven beard. The young woman had found him quite charming, and after a price had been reached they were off to his ship.

As soon as she had set foot on the ship?s deck, she knew she might have made a mistake. The ship itself was exquisite. She sat very low in the water, and was mast heavy. Sleek would have been the right word, and obviously built for high speed in the open ocean. On the front bow was a delicately carved figure of a nude woman. Several large cannons rimmed both the port and starboard sides of the ship, and looked well used. She had been around long enough to know a pirate ship when she saw one. The crew was just as she expected. Twenty midshipmen manned the Salty Wench, and they were a dangerous looking lot. Each bore the typical look of a hard knocked sailor. Unshaven, unwashed, and generally sour to look at. But she had set her course, and couldn?t go back now. The Salty Wench set sail that very morning.

Everything went well for the first couple of days. The sultry young woman had been bunked down in a small cabin next to the Captain's. Each night she would dine in his private quarters, talking and drinking long into the night with him. She actually found him quite engaging, and slowly lowered her carefully constructed guard. That's where she made her first mistake. That night, everything went as the nights before it had. There was dinner, music, and laughter all throughout the night. But for some reason the wine that night had had a bitter flavor to it. Realizing to late her dilemma, she slowly faded into unconsciousness. When she awoke the following morning, she found herself disarmed and disrobed, tied hand and foot in the Captains cabin. Capt. Monough confidently explained to her what her role on the ship would be. He would take her cargo and sell it, then use her as he pleased. When he was done with her, he would give her to the crew. If she resisted she would be beaten. It was as simple as that. And resist she did. Each night the same thing would happen. The captain would attempt to rape her, she would do her best to fend him off, and he would beat her half to death. Then he would tie her nude to the foremast and let her sleep there. Apparently the crew was under strict orders not to touch her, because although they jeered and made typical lewd comments, not a one put a hand on her. The captain must have thought this a wonderful game he was playing.

But the girl wasn?t too worried about her current situation. Believe it or not, she had been in much worse situations and always came out of it all right. Pit fights in Malaysia, concubine to kings, thief extraordinaire, she had done it all. That seemed to be one of her main gifts, survival. She slowly rose to her feet, bowing her arms out so that they slid up the mast. She surveyed the ship around her. The crew was busy with there normal duties, and seemed oblivious to her. The captain was nowhere to be seen. ?Probably down in the hole counting my money? she mumbled. A cry from the crow?s nest shook her from her reverie.

"Land Ho!" shouted the lookout.

She squinted against the midmorning suns glare, and could barely make out the outline of a coastline. Africa she guessed. At this proclamation, the captain came bursting out of his cabin, hastily strapping his sword around his waist. As he reached the rail, he produced a long, cylindrical spyglass and put it to his eye. He turned to the man to his side and clapped him on the shoulder. She knew this man to be the ship's first mate. Yennig by name, he was a smaller man than the Captain, probably French if she judged his accent well. He had sandy blonde hair and a thin build. He would have probably been considered a handsome man if given the chance to bath, and groom himself. Yennig acted differently towards her than the rest of the crew. Towards his men he was demanding and callous, running the everyday labors of the men with an iron hand. But towards her he seemed oblivious. She caught him every once in awhile staring at her naked flesh, but he quickly averted his gaze every time. He never spoke to her, or answered any of her questions she directed towards him.

"We will be in port by evening Captain" the first mate said in his lilted French accent.

"Aye. All the rum you can down, and a firm dark skinned woman for each arm!" the Captain bellowed.

For the first time since the voyage began, Yennig turned and faced her directly.

"And what of her Captain?" he asked.

Captain Monough turned his head to stare at his captive. Slowly a smile spread across his dark face, his golden teeth shining in the morning light. The Captain casually strolled over to the woman, circling her and the mast. He let his gaze go up and down her body, as if he were appraising cattle that he was intent on buying.

"It's a same you were not more cooperative my dear" he said in his singsong islander accent. "Then I may have let you live. But you see the authorities at port would frown upon me holding a woman against her will. And if you were to get free, it could cause quite a mess." The Captain pulled his hat from his head, and slowly wiped the sweat from his brow on the arm of his coat. He replaced the cap before continuing. "Ah well, a waste of some fine flesh." He slowly drew his cutlass from its scabbard and advanced on her, his intentions obvious.

Of all her many fine traits, her quick mind was indeed her finest asset. In a pleading tone she addressed the crew who had stopped to watch their Captain in action.

"Did he not promise me to you all when he was done? Will you all then lay with a corpse? Wouldn't you rather try my flesh while it was still warm?"

The Captain stopped his advance mere inches from her. In the weeks she had been onboard she had always been quite and demure. This sudden outburst was uncharacteristic of her, but he simply chalked it up to desperation. At this decree a low mumble spread through the ranks of the sailors, some coming a little closer in anticipation of what was to come. One look from the Captain and the men went silent. His control on this ship was absolute. Yennig turned from the scene in front of him and walked off towards the Captains private quarters. With no help from her only potential ally, it was time to switch tactics.

During the weeks the girl had been forced to sleep on deck, she had learned the lay of the ship by heart. She could walk the deck forward and backward blindfolded if need be. She knew where the small barrels of lantern oil were kept near the door to go below deck. She knew where the extra rope was stored, and the bags of grain and rice. She knew where the extra wood planks and nails were kept, along with the tar to patch leaks. This entire scene she brought to mind as she devised her next move. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She masked her smile with a look of fear.

"Then at least let me die fighting," she begged. "I know I cannot defeat you, but at least grant me a fighting chance."

Again the Captain was taken off guard. Something about this whole situation seemed wrong to him for some reason. He had been pulled in by this woman's soft curvaceous figure, and had failed to notice, until now, the taunt muscles in her legs and arms. As he stood there pondering this, a feeling of dread crept over him. This woman would have to die quickly, he decided. The Captain advanced on her, raising his sword for the killing blow.

The woman stood back rigid, staring straight at him. "Coward!" she shouted. "You fear a helpless naked woman? What kind of man are you to rule over these fine sailors if you cant even face a woman?" Her words hit him like a blow to the face. He stopped his arm?s downward swing; staring slack jawed at the audacity of this female. The Captain looked back and forth, surveying the reaction of his crew. Respect was the only thing that kept these pirates in line, and this bitch had played him like a fiddle. He knew he couldn't get out of a fight without losing the respect of his crew. His men stared at him, some waiting for his next move, others voicing their opinions.

"Fight her Captain, make it a slow death!" one man shouted. "Skewer the wench!" came a shout from another.

Although caught off guard, Captain Monough was not really worried. He was an excellent swordsman, and twice her size. He had yet to be defeated in a swordfight, and had actually killed the Captain of this very ship and claimed it as his own not more than five years prior. With his course set, Monough slipped a long knife from his belt and cut the woman's bonds. The girl staggered back away from the mast clumsily, rubbing her numb wrists to try and get the blood back into her hands. The Captain flung the long knife end over end towards the girl. It stuck, point first, into the wooden plank between her feet.

"Pick up the knife girl" Monough said. "Lets be quick about this".

She bent over at the waist to retrieve the knife from the wood. The men on the deck all crowded together behind her, lewd calls and comments poured forth. She was playing them to a tee. Standing up straight, the girl held the knife in both hands, arms straight out in front of her. Her hands were trembling and she seemed about on the verge of tears. An outburst of laughter spread over the deck, some of the men mocking her awkward stance. Captain Monough relaxed a bit at this sight. As he closed the distance between them, he waved his cutlass in front of him. Maybe he would play with the girl a bit after all.

Once he had reached a sword length in front of her, her entire posture changed. Almost to quick for his eyes to follow, she dropped into an almost feline like crouch. She shifted the long knife from both hands to just her left, and flipped it upside down so that the flat of the blade rested down the length of her forearm. A wide, evil grin spread across her face. Monough swung his cutlass in a wide arc at her shoulder level. He put all of his considerable power into the swing; his intent was to decapitate the girl in one swing. Before the sword could reach her, she threw her left arm up, the long knife acting as a metal shield for her arm. The cutlass hit the knife hard, throwing a shower of sparks in all directions.

The bone shattering impact was deflected harmlessly wide by a deft twist of the suddenly feral young woman. Without missing a step, the girl spun in a tight spiral with the grace of a ballet dancer. Her right fist struck the Captain flush against the jaw. Monough staggered back a few steps, trying to clear the flashing lights before his eyes. The girl came in fast; she reached around the Captain's neck, locked her fingers, and pulled, bending the big man over at the waist. At the same time she brought her knee up as his head came down. Bone hit cartilage as her knee smashed through what use to be his nose, shooting him upright, blood exploding across his shattered face.

The young woman dropped into a low crouch, and spun impossibly fast in such an awkward position. She came up behind the stunned man and slashed across the back of his knees. Howling like a dying animal, Captain Monough crashed to his knees, trying desperately to see through the haze of pain and blood. The girl was moving so fast he couldn't keep up with her movements. She stood from her crouched position directly behind the kneeling Captain. She casually knocked the hat off of his head and drove the knife into the soft spot at the base of his neck. The point of the knife erupted from his throat, spraying blood down the front of his nice silk white shirt. Monough fell face first into a pool of his own blood. The cutlass clattered onto the deck next to him, his hand near its hilt clenching and unclenching as if his lifeless hand were trying to grip the sword. Reaching down, the girl retrieved the sword and turned to face the crew.

It had all happened so fast that the crew didn?t have time for it to register. One minute their Captain was toying with a naked cowering woman, and the next moment he lay dead at the feet of a she demon. After a second of indecision, the sailors went berserk. Grabbing any weapons they could find, the crew of the Salty Wench burst into action. The girl ran towards the main mast in the center of the ship. With a twitch of her powerful leg muscles, she shot herself straight at the mast. She hit the wood feet first, and launched herself. Spinning in mid air, she kicked the first sailor to reach her in the side of his head. The man's neck snapped back at an odd angle, and he was thrown bodily into the crowd of men behind him. The girl hit the ground at a dead run, making a beeline for the officers cabin entrance. Men scattered across the deck trying to cut her off from all sides. None of them could keep up with the fleet footed woman. As she neared the cabin door entrance, she stopped and picked up on of the small casks of lantern oil. Just as the men reached her, she launched herself off the deck, and landed, cat like, on the railing of the upper deck.

The men stared at her for a second, and then ran for the staircase that led up.

She spun as she landed, knowing full well that the Helmsmen would be there, steering the ship. As she turned she saw the man reaching for the flintlock pistol tucked in the sash at his waist.

The girl flipped forward in mid air, and landed mere inches from the startled pirate. She struck out with the cutlass and impaled the man through the abdomen. With inhuman speed, the girl let go of the handle of the sword and grabbed the pistol before the body had hit the floor. She spun back around and ran to the railing. Half of the men below were milling around trying to get a good view of what was going on above them. The other half were trying to push their way up the lone flight of stairs, knocking each other down in the process. The woman lifted the small cask of oil over her head, and heaved it over the side of the railing. It struck one of the sailors in the crowd in the forehead, and shattered. As the man went down, oil burst forth from the broken keg, and splashed across the deck.

She pointed the pistol down into the crowd, and fired the weapon. The bullet struck the box of nails she was aiming at, and threw sparks in all directions. Suddenly a twenty-foot section of the main deck caught fire as the sparks hit the lantern oil. Men scattered in all directions, several of them couldn?t get out of the way and were bathed in oil and flame. Fire, was the worst enemy a sailor could face. If the ships masts caught fire, nothing would stop the ship from going under. Although the coastline was in sight, it would still be a several mile swim in shark-infested waters.

All of the men but four gave up the chase for the girl and concentrated on putting out the fire. By the time they reached the upper deck, the girl had already retrieved the cutlass from the fallen sailors body, and leapt over the railing to land on the deck below. Just as she hit the deck, the Captain's cabin door flew open. Yennig stood in the doorway, flintlock pistol in hand, pointed directly at her. Even with her speed she knew she could never cover the distance to him in time. Bravely she faced the man, and brought her sword up in a salute of readiness.

The men on the main deck had extinguished the fire, and now surged forward towards the girl, savage frenzy in their eyes. Yennig lifted the pistol into the air and fired. At the sound of the shot, everyone froze. The men stopped their forward advance, and the woman let her sword slowly lower to her side.

"The Captain is dead!" Yennig yelled. "And I'll not let the ship i've sailed on for over a decade flounder and sink".

The man stared intently at the woman in front of him, his faced pursed up as if he were in deep thought.

"You all know the code. The Captain was killed in fair combat, so she Captains this vessel now. Its as it always was and always will be." He intoned. "Does anyone here wish to face her and wrest that position from her?"

Each man in the crew turned their heads from side to side, staring at one another. No one spoke up.

"Well if there are no objections, get this mess cleaned up and prepare to dock" Yennig screamed. "Move!"

The well-oiled machine that was the crew of The Salty Wench flew into action. Although four of the crew was dead, and two severely burned, the remaining sixteen men went about their tasks business as usual. Some mumbled about having a woman for a Captain, and some discussed her prowess, but all went back to work. The woman stood there, hands on hips, staring at Yennig.

"We will be needing to find some clothes to fit you Captain," The first mate said.

She couldn't believe the turn of luck that was just handed to her. First a beaten slave upon this very ship, and now its Captain. Fate was indeed a fickle mistress.

"And if I don't choose to be the Captain? What then?"

Yenning turned as if to enter the cabins below. "Then you get off at port and never look back. The Salty Wench will make due, she always has." With that, the man started down the stairs. He stopped several steps down and turned to look at her.

"What shall we be callin ya Captain?"

The woman followed him through the doors and onto the stairs.

"My name is Kazi; Kazi Wren." She followed Yennig down and into the Captains old quarters.

"Captain Wren it is then. Welcome to the Salty Wench." At that Yennig burst into laughter, then stepped into the cabin looking for some clothes to fit the new Captain.

"Captain of a pirate ship eh?" Kazi whispered to herself. "Well i've done just about everything else in this world, who knows, this could be fun." She followed the first mate into the cabin, with a lot of questions to ask about this new title of hers.

The End