Morgan's Gold

His appearance was a surprise as the buccaneer had set out to sea two weeks past and was not expected back for at least a fortnight. That they had returned unexpectedly didn't bode well, Constance thought.

"The Captain wants to see you back at the compound," Hudson said, his tone carrying a mix of displeasure and impatience.

Sure that the news wasn't good, Constance considered for a brief moment the possibility of escape. Her eyes flashed to the edge of the forest, only a few dozen paces to her left. Then reason returned to her thinking as she recalled how ill-prepared she was to act out such a plan. As much as she had put it out of her thoughts, the memory of that night aboard ship and the first mate's skill with a pistol were still there. If she did choose to run, she mused, it was doubtful that she would make half the distance before she met the same fate as the late, ill-fated Rourke.

Instead, Constance took a moment to give Maria what she thought might be a farewell hug, thanking her for all of her kindness during her stay. Hudson watched without comment, keeping a close eyes on the blonde woman until she turned and began to retrace her path back. He followed behind her a ways, never offering to make her journey quicker or easier. Then, just as they reached the edge of the encampment, he turned his horse down another path and moved off to settle another matter.

Once she passed under the large archway, Constance was met by a small boy who seemed to have been waiting for her. He guided her to a part of the old fortress that she had never seen before. They moved past a series of intersecting corridors and up several stairwells, until they reached a large set of wooden double doors. Standing aside the portal were two guards, leaving her to believe that beyond was the Captain's quarters.

Seeing her approach, the guard on the left opened his half of the door and motioned for her to step inside. Constance found her heart pulsing as she followed his instruction, knowing her worse fears lay within. She promised herself that she would face them with courage, as she had tried to face all else in her life, short as it had been.

She was slightly surprised when the door was closed behind her and both the guard and the boy remained outside. A large decorative screen, twice as wide as it was high blocked her view, so it wasn't until she stepped around it that she understood why they had done so.

The room was vast, equal to four times the largest room in her father's house. It was lavishly furnished, filled with the spoils of uncounted plundering. It was also filled with walls of books, more than she had seen in the convent library, matched only by the equally high piles of what she could only guess were sea charts. There was so much to take in that Constance didn't really see at first the large metal tub situated on the far side of the room, its open end facing a large and equally open set of double windows. Beyond was an expansive panorama of the deep bottomed cove and the ships that filled it.

Even when she did take note of it, the high back of the tub prevented Constance was seeing the tub was occupied. That was until another serving girl appeared from an adjacent room with a small pile of clothing in her arms.

The apprehension in her heart was momentarily replaced by fascination as Constance watched Captain Morgan rise naked from the soapy water. With her back to her, the pirate leader rose to her full five foot nine height and brought her hands to the long red hair that stretched halfway down her back. She squeezed the water from it, sending steady streams down her back and across the compact cheeks of her ass to her equally firm legs.

The muscles of her arms and back flexed as she twisted her locks one more time, exhibiting a power equal to a man but still that of a woman. As she turned to take a drying cloth from the top of her servant's pile, Constance was able to look at her in profile, taking in the fullness of the rounded breasts she had only glimpsed in the moonlight.

She quickly dried herself after stepping from the still warm water, wiping away the small droplets that were already fading in the warm morning sun that flooded the room. Dropping the towel to the floor, she reached next for a pair of long brown breeches she quickly donned, excluding the need for any undergarments. As she moved in the sunlight, Constance was able to see a number of small scars on her body. Not enough to mar her beauty, but enough to attest to a life not spent in comfort.

A cream colored linen shirt came next, one that she left the uppermost half undone just enough as to allow a significant amount of cleavage to be visible. A dark brown leather vest followed, its laces just tight enough to further enhance the bounty of her chest. Boots of a similar hue completed the ensemble, but she was still not completely dressed.

The Captain wrapped a thin dark belt, the buckle of which appeared to be solid gold, around her waist, into which she slipped a long, deadly looking sword, the handle of which was the work of a master craftsman. Several smaller blades followed, filling spaces on the right and back of her belt, as well as the sides of her boots and the inside of her vest.

Finally, Captain Morgan reached down next to the tub and picked up a loaded and fully cocked pistol. She carefully released the hammer and slid the weapon into a holder near her sword. Evidently, not even when bathing was the beautiful woman ever really unarmed.

Turning to face a tall, full length mirror that rested against the wall, the Captain took a few moments to check her appearance. Satisfied, only then did she turn and even acknowledge Constance's presence.

"Leave us," she said to the dark haired servant girl who, after quickly picking up the now wet towel, exited the room back the way she'd come.

The door to the other room closed with a small noise and then a loud click as it was locked from the other side. It was a symbolic action, but one that showed just how much the girl respected her mistress's privacy.

"We seem to have a problem," Captain Morgan said without preamble as she moved over to a long table and poured herself a drink from a silver edged pitcher.

Constance didn't ask what kind of problem, sure that she already knew the answer. Instead she tried to project a look of innocence and confusion, hoping that she could look equally surprised if it turned out to be what she dreaded it was.

The Captain paused to talk a long drink of the cold liquid, glancing out the window at the pirate fleet that was hers. She took a Second taste, then continued her statement.

"I have to confess that I was somewhat surprised when Mister Torrungton failed to immediately pay your freedom price when my agent contacted him last month," she began. "I did not think it excessive for one of his means, especially for one of your beauty."

She paused again to drain the last of her glass, then set it on the table as she turned around.

"But knowing of his reputation as a man reluctant to needlessly part with his gold, I decided to grant him his request to first contact your father in England for instructions. I suspected that in reality he was asking your father to shoulder half the burden, but that is none of my concern. I care not from where my payment comes and I can afford to be a little patient for it."

She stepped closer to Constance, then added a more menacing corollary that particular decision wasn't popular with some of her associates.

"Then, just five days ago, the latest cargo ship from England reached Hamilton, escorted no less by a Frigate carrying thirty guns to ensure its safe passage," she went on. "Hearing that your intended had been there to meet the ship when it made port, I again sent my agent to his house. What he discovered was most unsettling."

The pirate woman paused once more, giving Constance a chance to comment on what she had said so far. The younger woman declined to do so, but suspected that her captor knew that the information she was imparting wasn't exactly unexpected.

There was a woman on that ship, whom I've been told is your older sister, Prudence. My agent initially reported that he believed that she might have been sent with the gold in order to make sure that it was used for your release. Then, much to his surprise, Torrungton not only didn't make any arrangements to unload any gold, he instead immediately set out to arrange a wedding ceremony. In less than forty-eight hours of her arrival, your fiancée instead took your sister to his marriage bed. Where I might add. he had reportedly remained since."

Unable to totally control herself any longer, Constance let out an audible sigh. Not at the turn of events, which as she admitted to herself was surely a possibility, but over the fact that she would no longer act as if were not. That her ransom might actually have been paid.

"If it's any small conciliation," the tall woman offered, "it was the opinion of my agent, who has seen both you and your sister by the way, that Torrungton has settled for an inferior bride."

The words brought her small comfort as Constance thought of her sister, Prudence. Fifteen months older than her, Prudence had the misfortune to have been caught in an inappropriate situation with a man who already had a wife. The scandal that had resulted had been muted due to their father's influence, but had been enough to make in near impossible for him to arrange a suitable pairing for her among the sons of his fellows who had heard the whispers. Evidently, Torrungton hadn't heard them or didn't care. Constance's only real regret about it all was that her father didn't send him Prudence in the first place so that she would be standing here instead of her.

"Still, as I said in the beginning, this has left me with somewhat of a problem," Captain Morgan said, interrupting Constance's musings.

Constance banished any thought of her sister, now giving the woman now only a few feet in front of her full and undivided attention. Everything up to this point had been a preface. Now she would learn the reason she had been sent for.

"A Captain who fails to secure their crew their promised share of a bounty might soon find themselves in a precarious position," the Captain said. "There comes a point where fear of retribution might not be enough to stay certain elements."

Constance took that statement with the proverbial grain of salt. She wasn't so naive as to think that the infamous Morgan the Red was really worried that her crew might mutiny over a few lost pieces of eight. Even if her contact with the Captain had been severely limited, she'd seen the way just about all of the people on this island regarded her. It wasn't so much fear as awe.

No, the pirate leader was using the scenario to make a point. One that Constance couldn't figure out, but was sure she wasn't going to like.

"It's been suggested to me by Hudson, who aside from my agent is the only one who knows the ransom isn't forthcoming, that there is another way for us to recover our loss," Captain Morgan said as Constance hung on every word. "That we might turn you over to the slaver auction on San Marcos and be able to get an equal if not greater price for you."

Constance's mouth fell open in shock, her mind unable to form words.

"This, I assure you, is not a decision that I would make lightly," the other woman extended. "Cold hearted as I have been accused of being at times, I would take no pleasure in sending a woman such as yourself into a life like that. There are men who would eagerly bid on you there that would actually make your sister's new husband seem like a prize catch."

Constance still had trouble finding words to express what she was feeling. The image of Rourke and his filthy hands upon her filled her mind. A night that might just have been a harbinger of things to come.

"Yet, as I explained before, my men expect to be paid and I'm at somewhat of a loss as to what other options I have," the Captain said as she brought their discussion to a conclusion. "Unless you have any suggestions?"

Obviously, she didn't, but Constance did decide to take the opportunity to ask if she might ask a question. One that she had been wondering about since that night on the Falcon's Claw. After all, even a condemned prisoner usually got a last request, didn't they?

Evidently, the older woman felt that way as well, indicating that she could ask the question.

"How did you wind up as the leader of these people?" Constance asked.

-=-=-=-

The question seemed to take her captor by surprise, but nevertheless, she did seem to give it considerable thought before answering. That she didn't dismiss it out of hand was a good sign Constance thought.

"Why don't you have a seat," the Captain as she offered Constance one of the cushioned chairs near the window. "That might take a little explaining."

Her curiosity aroused and eager to think about something else than being sold off like a prize cow, Constance accepted the offer. Sitting down, she got the impression that it wasn't a story that she shared with many people, or that it was one that the Captain preferred not be well known. The younger woman now wondered if it was a good thing that she might now be one of the few. It might save her from the auction block, but might it lead her to something worse. Then she asked herself if there was anything that might be worse?

"First of all," the red headed woman said as she took one of the seats next to Constance, "my given name is Rachel. My father was Morgan the Red, at least the original one."

"Is he dead?" Constance asked, thinking that was a logical conclusion.

"No, he's alive and well, or at least he was the last time I saw him," Rachel corrected her.

"I don't understand."

"A few years ago, my father decided to retire, to live out his last years in comfort. Something that normally doesn't happen for men in his kind of life," she explained. "The problem was, his Majesty's Navy doesn't like to let men such as him just fade away, especially not after all the damage he'd done to their reputations in these waters."

It hadn't occurred to Constance that many of the stories she'd heard of Morgan were twenty years old or more and that they couldn't have applied to this woman who couldn't be much more than ten years older than her.

"So in order for him to simply disappear, there still had to be a Morgan."

"He just turned it all over to you and the men followed?" Constance asked.

"No, it wasn't that simple," she clarified. "True, he could've just given me the Falcon's Claw since it was his ship, but that didn't mean any of the other Captains would automatically follow me. I had to prove myself first."

"How did you do that?" Constance asked, thinking how little respect men had for women in most parts of the world, much less here in such an untamed land.

"By being better than they were."

The look on Constance's face said that she didn't understand how that could be. Weren't men normally superior to women?

"I guess I should start at the beginning," Rachel said as she leaned back in her chair, her thoughts drifting back to her childhood. "My father loved my mother as few men love a woman. Even now, he still mourns her death from the fever. Any way, next to his love for her, the one thing he wanted most in life was a son to carry on his name."

Constance nodded her understanding of that aspect, knowing that was an aspiration carried by most men, including her father.

"Fate, however, gave him a daughter instead, twins actually, myself and my sister, Elizabeth. A gift that they only let him keep a few weeks before she also died of the fever. His attitude toward a daughter changed after that. He now looked at me as his heir regardless of my gender. From that day on, what he knew, he endeavored to teach me as well, along with every bit of knowledge the rest of his Captains had. By the time I was fifteen, I could sail a ship to almost any point on a map, or hold my own against any man with a sword in my hand. He also made sure that I learned about other subjects as well, trading precious gold for the books you see around you, all of which I've read more than once."

Constance considered Rachel's life against her own. How her father had seen the potential in her while her own had only seen shame to be hidden away. Morality aside, it was a life she almost wished she could have led.

"I worked my way up among his crew, starting from the orlop deck to the bridge, holding every position from loblolly boy to first mate. Finally, about five years ago, my father came to me and told me it was time for him to go. I haven't seen him since."

There was a sadness in Rachel's eyes as she finished her tale. Constance couldn't help but think that despite all that she found herself envying about her, the older woman was very much alone in her life. She wanted to say something, but was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

"Captain!" a loud voice boomed from the other side of the wood, "the Sea Dog is coming into port."

Rachel rose from her chair and glanced out the window, her sharp eyes quickly focusing on the sails just past the horizon. Duty called.

"I'm afraid we'll have to cut our chat short," Rachel said as she reached for the hat she had left hanging on a post. "A pity, I wanted to ask a few questions about your life as well. Maria had already told me much about it and I was curious about a few things."

"Maria told you?" Constance asked, thinking of the many hours she had spent walking and talking to the younger girl.

"Of course," Rachel smiled as she adjusted the hat in the mirror, "there is little that goes on here on my island that I don't know about."

Constance rose to her feet, realizing that the moment was over and that her problems had returned. A view reflected on her face.

"Perhaps we can talk again later," the tall woman said as she reasserted herself in the image of Morgan the Red.

"I'd like that," Constance said.

"One thing though," the Captain said as she headed for the door, "I've given orders that you no longer be allowed to visit outside the fortress. Until I decide what to do with you, I'd much prefer to know where you are. In fact, it might be better if you stayed in your room until I got back."

"Of course," Constance said dishearteningly.

With that, Morgan the Red was gone.

-=-=-=-

All through the long afternoon and into the evening hours, Constance sat in her room, now finally feeling like a prison, and contemplated her future. A future that looked bleaker with each passing hour. Staring out the window at the setting sun, she wondered if she would have the strength to throw herself to the street far below. Death might be preferable to the sexual slavery that Captain Morgan had hinted might be her fate.

A loud knock at the door interrupted her musings. She turned away from the window, and possible death, just as the heavy door opened from the outside. In walked Maria, her ever present smile filling her face.

Putting aside her dark thoughts, Constance found herself returning the younger girl's smile. It was that infectious. The result, the blonde haired woman thought, of a simple life with not a care in the world.

"The Captain would like you to join her for dinner," Maria said, her tone reflecting what a great honor she held such an invitation. "I've been sent to help you get ready."

Constance glanced down at the simple dress that she had been wearing since the day she arrived and wanted to laugh. Getting ready for dinner consisted of little more than washing her face and hands, a practice that seemed little practiced among most of the people she'd seen on this island.

Maria caught the look on Constance's face and actually did laugh. The girl might've lived a simple life, but she was hardly stupid. The joke was on Constance as Maria motioned to the guard who stood by the door and in response to her summons, two more men appeared at the entrance carrying a large, decorated, chest. One that the Englishwoman recognized immediately.