A Pirate’s Journey

Women were turned away from several ships in 1710 due to “lack of strength” or maybe a dislike of transporting “unnecessary temptresses.” One ship disregarded these regulations. Men and women labored within lumbers of freedom aboard the Hydra.

But in other people’s perspective, Hydra was a monster. Among the worst pieces of mischief to ever afflict the Seven Seas. She pilfered sugar, rum, and ammunition from the Monarch George’s Fleet, hoarding it to sell to scoundrels, malefactors, and vagrants on the coast.

According to the ship’s master, the crew would split any money evenly, with Hydra keeping a portion as it was expensive to find a new hull.

Like other boats bigger than rafts, Hydra had a chef on board. Nessa O’Breanne was the chef for Hydra. Between the highest cloud and the darkest cave, no lady has ever been known to be stronger, stouter, or more hell-bent.

“Ello Ness!” One morning, the quartermaster of the Hydra met her.

“Tom.” With her beefy hands around a plump goat hock, Nessa hissed back.

“Word from the Master, we have to halve the grub once more before we stop at the Nassau docks, orders are to stop at the Old Rum stash beforehand and drop off some cargo.”

Nessa released a furious breath. Not able to dispute, but furious at the quartermaster’s remarks. Instead of speaking out of turn, she grabbed her butcher’s knife again and gave the goat leg a hard whack on her wooden board.

“Me, alone in the crew.” Tucked alone, tired and alone… Me, alone among all these ravenous jaws! What is the idiot expecting from me? Bring out wheat and meats from the sea?

With her hands occupied, her mind shifted to her history and the ways the Hydra had come to her aid.

Being surrounded by fattened animals and wheat as a child meant that one was well-cared for and never went hungry.

Unfortunately, Nessa’s mother was not a great chef; the results of her labor were often unappealing to look at and difficult to chew. When Nessa became twelve, she assumed her position at the oven. Her mother accepted the unusual arrangement with gusto; it seemed that she had anticipated Nessa’s assistance and had been somewhat irritated by Nessa’s seemingly persistent “slothful” attitude toward “women’s work.”

To her father’s delight, her mother’s spot at the oven had been firmly taken.

Both Nessa and her father were similar beings who were enthralled with nature.

“There’s no disputing that they are creations of God,” he would exclaim with delight. The remark was usually followed by a firm pat on the shoulder of a cow, horse, or other huge creature they were taking care of.

Thus, on that little farm hidden from the outside world, the serenity they created endured. They laughed, they ate, and they prayed well.

They had believed that they couldn’t be destroyed by anything.

“There it is! Forward! Sweetheart schooner!” From the crow’s nest, the lookout sent out a cry.

Nessa gritted her teeth and tightly gripped her sword. Breathing deeply, she prayed the Hydra Master would not summon…

“Upper deck, prepare to board that schooner!”

“Whew,” Nessa pondered. She was able to relax and enjoy her goat stew without having to use her sword when someone called for help to the top deck. Since a schooner was a small ship, the crew should have been unbalanced enough to be alarmed by the Hydra’s weaponry. They would give up rum and sugar in order to just get away. quite simple to catch.

Nessa felt the boat spin, felt the ropes of the Hydra crack and tug at her beams.

“You old woman, hang on for us,” Nessa whispered to the boat.

From the beginning, Nessa had known her heart would not be controlled. It was reasonable to say that she was more fond of and respectful of the farm animals than she was of the males that came to court her.

She had presumed that she had not yet encountered her “real” love, and that notion carried her into her twenty-second year, serene and unagitated.

Her downfall came during a ball held at the town hall. This kind of thing happened once a year, and Nessa thought it was terrible. Her position would quickly diminish, and at twenty-two, she would soon be seen as an elderly, lonely lady. She needed to be married quickly.

Nessa stood at the steps of the town hall, fiddling with the blue cotton of her dress.

A step away from her came the pleasant sound of laughter, “Careful, you’ll wear a ‘ole through that.”

With a start, Nessa turned to face the noise.

A beauty was standing there. Staring back at her were eyes as green as the country she loved. Nessa felt her heart falter. Nessa has never seen a more attractive lady than her.

She laughed again, her black curls bouncing atop her head; she had talked to Nessa.

“Uh,”

“Told ya,” the lady said as she moved in closer; Nessa could smell her and wanted her to be nearby.

The lady then grasped Nessa’s hands and said, “Be careful.” On her own, they felt so tender.

Again, their eyes met.

Nessa’s wild heart played a terrible tune of love.

On Unsplash, Bas Glaap

The quartermaster yelled, “ALL HANDS! ALL HANDS!” from above.

It broke Nessa’s heart. It was the rallying cry for help that she had sought to avoid. She muttered a curse to herself.

“How dare these idiots not accept a schooner without the cook’s escort!” When the day is over, what do they want to gorge themselves on? Saltwater? What a waste of the little time God granted me to live as a mortal.

As soon as Nessa got close to the upper deck hatch, her thoughts of rage were dashed. Fresh, scarlet blood gushed through the square holes in the wooden surface.

“Not exactly a simple catch.”

There was pandemonium on the upper deck. Gunpowder flared as swords clashed. The briny air carried the gruesome noises of combat. Nessa had to duck under a cutlass that was coming for her shoulder as soon as she came out. She performed the maneuver quickly, knocking her opponent’s sword out of a perspiring hand. He gave in and fell before her, panting from exhaustion.

From across the deck, the quartermaster called out to her, “Schooner was a trap!” The color of death, crimson hands and arms, greased him.

“Are you sure?” Nessa flung her arms and gave a yell through her teeth. She pointed to the excessive number of crew members who had climbed on the Hydra. The Hydra had only twenty, thus there had to be more than forty.

Cut, chop, shove — Nessa established her cadence. She found that the butcher’s blade she was holding was helpful in combat. She quickly forgot about her goat stew below decks. Her tongue was touched by sweat, blood, and saltwater, and a massive storm broke out in the sky.

Many individuals were swept away that day by the waves.

On Unsplash, Brian Cook

The lady introduced herself and said, “Name’s Susan.”

“Oh,” Nessa began to gather herself, “are you also being called to the ball?” She gave the Townhall a nod of her head.

“Dear God, no!” Susan chuckled.

Nessa noted what her background was. Susan was standing among a gathering of affluent individuals on a street corner. Her cheekbones were ornamented with scarlet colorant, and her bosom was held by a low garment. A number of others dressed similarly to her surrounded her.

Nessa said, “Ah,” understanding.

“Ah.” Susan said as a shadow moved over her face.

“Probably best that you go ‘ave your caper, love.” declared Susan.

“Oh yes, and probably best you return to your, well, um…”

“My brothel?”

Nessa’s soft-spoken “Yes…” lay between them.

Susan seemed to scowl briefly. She seemed as conflicted as Nessa did. Then her face lit up with a mischievous smile the moment the way had materialized.

“Unless, you would prefer to accompany me?” Susan made an offer.

Nessa has never heard of an offer that was more agreeable or welcoming.

“Please…”

That day, the Hydra lost both her Quartermaster and her Master. The team as a whole gave up. ‘Cowards!’ Nessa had cried out at them. With a burning rage in her veins, she unleashed her sword.

She was quickly detained, arms yanked and back pressed, but her rage was insufficient to stop every blade.

Nessa spotted the Hydra as she was marched past metal bars. The boat was empty as it rose up above the water.

Roughly, her cell door closed. Her hands remained bound.

Nessa’s parents quickly discovered the reason for her increased obsession with her frequent visits to the town.

There had been a catastrophy of disagreements. She was not allowed to visit Susan by her mother. Nessa was kept by her oven. Her search for a match for her daughter only increased in number. Her engagement was announced in due course. Not that it mattered, she didn’t know the man’s name.

Her dad was much worse. As she slept, he prayed over her and cursed her in the name of the Lord. He declined to give her a glance.

Her father paused and set down the sacred book on a dim day when the sun had set and the moon was shining.

“Ness, have a look…” he began.

Nessa turned to gaze at her dad.

“Don’t get wed to that sorry case your mother’s got for you.”

“Do you have any other answers?”

“There’s tell of a vessel, an old smuggler’s boat taken by…wayward souls.”

Nessa motioned for her dad to continue.

The hydra. It is said that women are just as welcome as males.

There were very few locations where women were as welcome as males, Nessa sneered.

“They say, the Hydra can be an equal place…”

“Papa, I’m calling for sleep. Don’t discuss myths.”

“Ness, no myths. Tomorrow, the ship docks. You have the option to remain or select how you must be.”

Moments after her father departed, Nessa started packing her luggage.

Three years of hard metal confinement. Three anniversaries. Undoubtedly, her parents had learned of her return and had left her behind. Nessa’s head had become black and she was sinking deeper.

One day when Nessa was agitating her chains, she heard a brazen remark come through from the cell next to hers.

“Careful, you’ll wear a hole through them…”

“Susan?” Expectantly waiting for a ghost or other monster, Nessa called.

“The one and only, Ness, dear.”

“What? How?”

“Ah, stole one too many purses from men’s pockets.”

Nessa gave a scratchy little chuckle.

“Yourself?”

“You wouldn’t accept my truth…” Nessa uttered a gasp.

“Try me, dear.”

“Well… do you see the vessel from your cell?”

“The hydra? Did you travel on THE HYDRA? Susan gave a loud yell. Nessa chuckled.

“Yes!”

“Astonish me! Kind of you, Nessa! Were the rumors those guys told true? Was the Hydra a place of equality?

Indeed! Equal in status and allowed to be who they really are are men and women. Nessa started to weep. “But not after this. Someone set up a trap for us.”

“Ah, sorry Ness.”

Tears streamed down Nessa’s face.

Susan began, “You know what they say…”

From Susan’s cell, Nessa heard the sound of metal, a little scrape.

“When a hydra looses one head…”

Susan was standing in front of Nessa’s cell door when a door suddenly slid open and a cunning metal thing protruded from her hand.

“They grow…”

She jabbed the thing at Nessa’s cell door’s keyhole.

“Two more!”

As soon as the door opened, Nessa sprang to her feet.

“Let’s go get your Hydra back, dear!”