"On Crimson Coloured Tides Chapter 1" by Imogen Ilsabeth Laverick

 

    Captain Genevere VanHagen was infamous among her fellow seafaring folk as possibly the coldest, most notorious pirate ever to have captained the legendary Phantom Blade… of which they’d had a fair few. It was true that the scowl behind her curtain of shocking red hair was enough to turn water to ice, and the scars across the pale skin of her cheek and neck showed up almost proudly as if to warn away opposition of any kind; and of course Jacques, the small but deadly serpent that was constantly wrapped around his mistress’s wrist or curled up on her shoulder removed any doubt left in one’s mind of her reputation with just a subtle flash of his fangs… Some people swore that snake acted human, which of course was utter nonsense, as Jacques thought he was a parrot. But the thing was that nobody; not even her own crew knew anything about her, or how a woman like her (or a woman alone in fact) had become so respected by the swashbuckling thieves and cutthroats who called themselves the great pirates of their day. Genevere herself liked things this way, and had no intentions of changing.

    On this particular bright morning at sea, she marched purposefully out onto the main deck of her ship precisely on time: ten minutes after sunrise, and she surveyed the almost deserted space before her. Typically, it seemed she was still the only one there with any sense of time, not that this surprised her at all. The crow’s nest above was empty, the sails were down and the ship was practically drifting on the gentle morning tide by itself… In fact, after a little further scrutiny, Genevere found, to her annoyance, that it was. Jake, her first mate who had supposedly been keeping an eye on things that night was slumped over the ship’s wheel and snoring loudly, a sound that somehow resembled a foghorn, but just slightly quieter. This alarmed Jacques, who hissed quietly and ducked sharply under the wide sleeve of the Captain’s coat.

    Having woken up in a fairly tolerant mood for a change (perhaps it was the pleasant weather), Genevere proceeded to the place of her deputy’s slumber and coughed loudly to get his attention. Failing that however, as he only twitched before snoring away once again, she took the thin, brass telescope from her pocket, weighed it in her hand for a moment and struck him sharply across the back of the head, but not too hard… just enough to wake the poor fellow up.

    “AHH! H-hoist the sails! Hit the deck! CYRUS PUT DOWN THAT CUTLASS!” Jake spluttered, still bewildered and sure he had not yet surfaced from his dream.
    Genevere tapped her foot impatiently and coughed again, used to this kind of behaviour from certain members of her crew. “SIR!” Jake barked hurriedly, straightening himself up and saluting (a habit derived partly from his old military ways). He went a deep shade of crimson when he noticed who it was stood before him and began to stammer; “I mean, ma’am… I mean… I was just resting my eyes, Captain… all’s good!”

    “Yes, I can see that you great lazy buffoon.” She sighed, rolling her eyes, “You’re lucky I haven’t fed you to the fish yet, mate. What’s become of the others? Hung over and sleepin’ again?”

    “I believe so, Captain.” Jake said, still a little dazed. “Mollie could’ve poisoned the lot of ‘em in that rum and nought would’ve noticed.”

    Genevere recalled the previous night at The Reaper’s Tavern and sighed… you couldn’t trust any of those idiots to stay sober. It was true Genevere herself was partial to a little of Mollie-Ann’s famous Davy Jones’ Pride, otherwise known as the Old Deathly, but it was a rare thing for her to be drunk off her head, and she failed to see how one could find it so entertaining. She decided that it must just be a man thing… she never would understand those creatures.

    “Well then, it’s about time the pack of scurvy old bastards was aroused.” She answered with the air of authority she knew would frighten her first mate back to his somewhat dim senses. It seemed to work because he immediately gave his salute again and sprinted the length of the deck, almost hurtling overboard before he jumped below deck to the crew’s quarters and suddenly a great hubbub could be heard in his wake.

    Yes… this was the way she liked things. During the pause that had occurred upon Jake’s hasty departure, Jacques slithered up her arm and settled himself in a neat coil on her shoulder and looked up at the Captain almost inquisitively, his little head cocked on one side and his forked tongue flickering slightly as he hissed softly to get her attention.

    “Sometimes I wonder whether I should have appointed you as my first mate, Jacques.” Genevere murmured, her lip curling into the almost smile that was hardly ever seen by her crew. Jacques rested his head on the coil that was the rest of him, and seemed to give her an approving look. If the snake could speak, which of course he could not, he would most definitely have agreed. As far as he was concerned, if Jake was the pick of a bad lot… well, that’s what you got when you employed pirates.

 

    ***

 

    It was later that day, around ten o’clock to be exact, that the reluctant crew of Genevere’s ship finally seemed to be back to themselves… more or less anyway. She had been examining a peculiar tangle in the riggings (in which young Cyrus Pride had caught his foot), when Vince Snakebite came running over, slipping on the wet wooden deck as he hurried. Vincent Haayes was possibly the oldest member of Genevere’s crew that there was (although a pirate’s life expectancy isn’t astronomical exactly, and so he wasn’t actually that old). He had been around on the Phantom Blade for even longer than Genevere though, and had seen three Captains before her come and go. The reason he had earned the nickname ‘Snakebite’, was to do with Jacques. Needless to say, this annoyed little Jacques a great deal, for he could not understand why everyone would call Vincent ‘Snakebite’ when clearly he had been bitten by a parrot. He didn’t have particular dislikes of gender like his mistress, Jacques didn’t understand humans in general.

    Anyway, the man was named Snakebite, and he had found something that would definitely please the Captain; or so he hoped. For the past few days, even he had to reluctantly admit that he’d been about as much use as a fart in a bottle… a bottle with holes for that matter.

    “Here, I think I’ve found the problem…” Genevere declared eventually, drawing the cutlass at her waist.

    Young Cyrus, who was only fifteen and had been rescued by Genevere and her crew from a sinking cargo ship but a few months ago, didn’t like the look of this at all. He had hoped it would be another couple of years at least before he acquired a peg leg or an eye patch… Hell, he didn’t even have a decent beard yet! Either way, he was afraid of this strange woman Captain (he hadn’t even thought it possible before), and whenever she and her cutlass were involved, Cyrus had tried to make himself scarce.

    Much to his relief, however, Genevere only cut away a stray piece of rope, handing it immediately to Jake along with an order for its disposal, and Cyrus could finally scramble back down onto the more comfortable level of the ship. “Thank you.” He murmured.

    “Just try to keep out of trouble.” Genevere sighed although she couldn’t help but let her lips curl into that rare half smile again. She was rather fond of the boy… he had a good heart and a decent brain (unlike some people she could name but wouldn’t), he had the makings of a damn good pirate. However, with that affair all over with she turned to Snakebite with high hopes that she was sure she would regret.

    “We have a passenger ship headed our way, Ma’am.” Vincent said hurriedly, just a little nervous of how he should explain his idea… and more importantly, nervous about how Genevere would react to it. Of all the Captains of the Phantom Blade Vincent had seen, Genevere was the wisest and perhaps the most… sensitive. She had a policy to attack only the Guilty for their own gain, and also fancied herself something of a Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the (choice) poor. Either way, he had to give it a shot.

    “What do we want from a passenger ship?” She said simply with a roll of her eyes. “You had my hopes up there.”

    “Well… The ship is named The Fyre-” Vincent began the dreaded explanation, but he was not allowed to finish for the look that came over the Captain’s face when he mentioned the ship’s name. Perhaps this had been an idiotic idea anyway… Perhaps it was time to jack in piracy altogether; he could open a tavern and drink rum whilst listening to old men complain about their lives… which was pretty much what he did already anyway.

    He had no more time to think this over though, because Genevere grabbed him by the collar, hanging him almost over the side of the ship and snapped back, “The Fire of WHAT?”

    The look in her ice blue eyes had even the tough-as-nails pirate quaking in his boots. “J… Just The Fyre, Ma’am, with a ‘Y’… it’s a smuggler’s ship from Egypt, maybe carrying gold, Ma’am…” He stammered, and to his relief he felt Genevere’s vice like grip loosen, and he was allowed to stand once again on his own feet. “I just thought… seen as it’s a nasty trade they’re in… anything could happen to that there gold and nobody’d know, Ma’am.”

    “That’s not a bad suggestion you know.” Genevere said thoughtfully, clasping her hands together and regaining her composition. “In fact it’s a fairly good suggestion… best you’ve come out with all week, mate.”

    Vincent let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “Shall I ready the men, Ma’am?” He suggested, keen to stay on Genevere’s good side now for ease.

    “Tell ‘em last on board the smuggler’s ship can clean Jacques’ cage tonight.” She replied with a wink, although neither Vincent nor Jake (who had just returned to catch the last of the conversation) could tell whether she was joking; and sure as hell they weren’t about to hang around and find out, so both dashed off as fast as their scuffed booted feet could carry them.

    So today might not be too bad, Genevere thought to herself as she leaned out over the side of the ship to breathe in the bitter salty air. After all, what are the odds anyway? He probably moved on if he lives… He’ll have forgotten everything…

    She shook that thought off… No, he wouldn’t just up and forget, he was far too stubborn for that. And what should she care of he had? She had the whole ocean to roam now, just as she’d always dreamed of... But there was one tiny little niggling thought in the back of her mind that refused to go away. Something she desperately didn’t want to think about but had to…

    I wish you could have seen it too…