LITMIR.BIZ

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Jane swore she couldn’t hear the lookout, Sharpova, cry “Land-ho” without hearing the echo of Ned mimicking the Russian’s accent, or watch Rufus, the cabin boy, swab the deck without recalling Ned laughing as he revealed to all how Rufus still slept with a photograph of his mother under his pillow.

      It had got to the point where every man was afraid to call the least bit of attention to himself for fear of drawing Ned’s mirth and being made to look ridiculous before his shipmates. Only the rougher, more bullying men of the crew, like Lobster and Cabrillo, truly enjoyed Ned’s company. The rest merely followed his orders with the resignation common to all those who live in fear.

      What could create such a canker of cynicism and negativity inside a person, and yet leave its host’s life unconsumed, Little Jane did not know. But what she did know, just as surely as she knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west, was that Ned did not like children.

      Actually, Ned Ronk detested children even more than Little Jane suspected. To his mind children were excitable, overly-enthusiastic little beasts, who wept if they scratched their knees and expected you to go into raptures if they picked a daisy. Children to him were like insect larva — necessary for the continuation of the species, but inherently weak, soft, and useless until they grew to a proper size. The affection otherwise reasonable adults had for things they deemed cute made no sense to him. The very words cute and childish set his teeth on edge. The best thing a child could do in his opinion was to keep quiet and stay out of an adult’s way. And yet, much to Ned’s exasperation, certain children (meaning Little Jane), failed to understand how a child ought to behave. These disgusting brats seemed to think their mere existence was a fact to be applauded. Any child who insisted on being not only seen, but heard as well, and heard often, annoyed him beyond all measure.

      Though his attitude was plain to Little Jane, it was infuriatingly unapparent to most adults. And so Ned Ronk continued on in her parents’ employ unhindered.

      However, some slights cannot be tolerated, even in the world of adults, even when disguised by polite manners and a proper outward appearance. And so it was that Ned Ronk’s reign of humiliation came to a rather sticky end fifteen days after the Pieces set sail.

      At first it did nothing but please Little Jane that she should be the instrument through which all those unfairly denigrated by Ned Ronk should observe his comeuppance. Later, though, she would come to seriously regret her involvement in the matter.

      It was a cloudy Tuesday when, lounging amid the coils of rope on the quarterdeck, Little Jane noticed two sailors playing dice. They were Lobster and Tonqui, who, along with Cabrillo the caulker, happened to be Ned’s closest mates onboard. Sometimes they would take to bullying crewmembers in Ned’s stead. This did not bother Ned. In fact, it seemed to amuse him, and he often turned a blind eye to their transgressions.

      After a few minutes, Ned and Cabrillo arrived to join the game, cups of grog in hand. At first Ned only listened. Lobster talked, as he often did, of lobsters. With great patience he tried to explain to Cabrillo and Tonqui the difference between shedders and hard-shell lobsters, but seeing they had no interest in this stimulating topic, conversation gradually turned to other things. Lobster, Tonqui, and Cabrillo soon fell to talking less and less, leaving Ned to dominate the discussion, as usual.

      “Whoever heard of a respectable ship with two captains!” scoffed Ned Ronk. “And while we’re at it, whoever heard tell of a female captain at all! I tells you, mates — I tells you ’cause I truly care about the dignity of this here crew — that we’re the laughingstock of every port from Tortugua to Tokyo, we are!”

      Little Jane’s ears perked at these words, insolent as they were. She listened as they talked of Captains Silver and Bright — although that was not what Ned called them, dismissively referring to his superiors as “that feeble old cripple” and “his harpy cow.” Cabrillo had only just muttered a faint protest at this comment when Ned Ronk spotted Little Jane hiding in the rope pile. Ned started to say something to her, but she was too frightened of him to stay and listen. She leapt up like a shot and was in the hold quicker than Ned or his mates could get to her.

      There was little question how word of Ned’s speech reached the ears of the captains that night.

      Bonnie Mary and Long John were never great proponents of flogging compared to other pirate captains. Even the most experienced sailor made a mistake or ran a little lazy now and again they figured, with no ill feeling toward captain or disrespect for ship intended.

      But Ned’s talk was malicious, pure and simple, and they had seen the bloody results of such idle chatter when left unchecked on other vessels. There were reasons sailors were superstitious about speaking the word mutiny out loud on a ship, even in jest. Although he might be the gentlest of God’s creatures by nature, a ship’s captain could ill afford to show weakness, a fact that went double for a captain who happened to be a woman or one suspected of any sort of fragility of person.

      Usually it was the boatswain who did the flogging aboard ship, but in this case the dubious honour fell to Bonnie Mary and Long John themselves.

      In a well-calculated display for the crew, Ned Ronk was tied up with his face to the mizzen-mast and the charge of “mutinous speech” read. If any crewman still dared to think of Captain Silver as a “feeble cripple,” or Bonnie Mary as a “harpy cow,” the ability to stand in sweltering heat engaged in the exhausting business of thoroughly whipping the tar out of a man, certainly put those theories to rest.

      Little Jane had thought that it would please her to see Ned Ronk brought low and shamed before his mates. She had not truly believed such a despicable person could have feelings like other people. Certainly, she had not expected him to cry. But cry he did, and in such a piteous manner that Little Jane had to keep herself from yelling out “Stop!” as the whipping continued. She did not know how her parents could take it.

      It seemed to take forever, but eventually the flogging was over. Lancashire and Sharpova took the boatswain down below to tend to his wounds. Tonqui, Cabrillo, and Lobster were forbidden to associate with him until they arrived in Habana.

      Even with Ned out of sight, Little Jane still felt squeamish. There was even more for her to worry about now. How would she ever protect herself from the boatswain’s revenge?

      The day after the flogging, Little Jane spent a fruitful morning following Long John around, taking notes for “How to Be a Good Pirate.” By this time Little Jane had already filled a quarter of the exercise book and was still going strong.

      As she walked, she listened to commands like “Raise the mizzen-mast! Tighten the topsail! Schooner off the port bow!” and “Look lively!” delivered by Long John in a booming voice like the crack of thunder.

      She noted “cuss and shout a lot” as a tip to her future self.

      Dutifully she practised yelling out various nautical phrases in the privacy of her parents’ cabin, pleased to hear how naturally they tripped off her tongue with the booming pitch necessary for an aspiring young captain. Brimming with confidence, she now awaited the perfect moment to demonstrate her newfound ability.

      One morning, while Bonnie Mary was off studying the star charts, Little Jane noticed her father slip away to the ship’s head. The coast was clear.

      Throwing caution to the wind, Little Jane shouted at the pilot: “North to starboard! Starboard to the wedgeward side! Hoist the te’gallant scuppers! Loosen up the rear admiral sheets! Dolphin catcher spars at ready! Look lively now!”

      Much to her surprise, though, outside the four walls of the captains’ cabin, out on the wide deck, with the sounds of the open sea, her voice was far from booming. Instead, it sounded thin and piping, and whatever little sense there was in what she said was whipped away by the strength of the wind.

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