I picked up a dirty whiskey glass, spat in it, and started scrubbing it with a grimy cloth. I figured I should, since the fella that had been drinking out of it had just thrown it in no particular direction, honour questioned by a nearby crewmate, fists bared. It was a dull brawl to be sure — only one tooth knocked out and barely a black eye between them. I’d seen some savage ones over the years, though I always made sure to send them outside if a pistol was raised.
It was a quiet night at The Jade Dagger. I’d lit a couple of lamps and dotted them about the place, giving it a hearty glow. A few crews were scattered ‘round the place, gin in hand. Nash Wendell’s were tavern regulars, always hooting and shouting about one plunder or the next. They all looked quite different, but I knew if I was to lift up a shirtsleeve or collar, I’d find their signature tattoo of an arrow piercing an opened eye. Elwood Rudge despised them, called them “port hoggers” for always nicking the best loot and drinking almost every night away while his own crew were on the brink of mutiny. Rudge sulked in the corner, narrow-eyed and hunched over. Finn Moreland’s were the biggest of any crew by far. He scooped up deserters and layabouts faster than rot to belowdecks, filling the place with young men soothing their nerves with a bottle, passed around and around. Unsurprisingly, the whole place had the permanent odour of sweat, blood and gunsmoke.
A tune started up at the back of the tavern. The Drummer and The Cook. I heard the ditty one too many times a week, though I don’t think it could get old if it tried. Soon the Dagger was just another ship — it swayed and the people with it, belting the lyrics like drunken parrots. I’ve seen a drunken parrot. He slurred his words like the rest of them. Smiling despite myself, I put the glass down and joined in.
The collar of her black frock coat was turned up around her face. With a quick glance around, she adjusted her bandana and made her way up to the bar alone
A gust of hot, sandy air blew in then, crashing the door open and ending the song, swiftly followed by someone I had only heard tales of Ora Thackeray. Her red leather boots she was so famous for clunked on the worn boards as she stepped in with the poise and depravity of any pirate queen. She wore thick black trousers that bulged around the knees, held up with a gold belt buckle, tucked into that was a white satin shirt and covered by a crimson sash. The collar of her black frock coat was turned up around her face. With a quick glance around, she adjusted her bandana and made her way up to the bar alone.
‘I know what happened in that room’: the full story of the Conor McGregor case
Eating disorders in later life: Some of my peers have had teenage weight levels for decades
Eoin Burke-Kennedy: Is remote working bad for productivity?
David McWilliams: The potential threats to Ireland now come in four guises after Trump’s election
“A rum. And don’t be shy,” she said in a low, imposing tone, plonking herself down on a hurriedly vacated barstool. I felt my cheeks go hot and dived behind the bar for her drink. Certainly as beautiful as I’d heard — thick black curls that fell past her shoulders, the warmest brown skin and knifelike honey eyes. I poured the rum into the glass I’d been holding, cursing myself for the drop I spilt. She took it with a nod and turned to face The Jade Dagger’s flock, who were much quieter than before. She kept her coat on. “Well lads, any news?”
Nash Wendell, ever the idiot in his half-open shirt, was first to pipe up. “‘Course. Wasn’t it only last week that an English merchie docked in the harbour. Me crew waited ‘til they’d all moseyed up to their grand houses before hoppin’ on board and stealin’ their loot!” This was met with uproarious cheers from his crew and an unimpressed sigh from Thackeray.
[ Read all Fighting Words contributions hereOpens in new window ]
“So you’re wanted men then?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, Hurricane, they didn’t spot us.” Wendell took a sip of whiskey.
“And you don’t think they’re out looking for a bunch of useless swabs smoking English cigars and drinking their rum?”
He looked flummoxed. “How did you know what they …?”
“Because I raided that ship five weeks ago, took their best satin and freed the slaves.”
I snickered. Wendell never could pass up the opportunity to make a fool of himself. Neither could his not-really-rival Elwood Rudge, who decided it was his turn. “Well we met a Spanish warship not three weeks ago and stole all their cannons, didn’t we lads?” He was met with a few grunts of approval.
“How many dead?” she asked.
“Oh, I got the killing blow on about twelve of them, to be sure.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not their crew, you dimwit, your’s.”
Rudge eyed the floor. “Four.”
Thackeray turned away from him and downed her rum in one before looking around for an old friend. “Ah, Moreland. Any news with you?”
Moreland smiled. “Not today, Hurricane. Just trying to captain a crew of 80 is work enough for me. How about yourself?”
“Well,” she said, leaning back on the bar, “I’ve not been all that busy. Just happy being the Scourge of the Seven Seas. Really, I’m here for a few fresh legs. I heard a couple of weeks back that the Dutch are at something along the west African coast. I’ll have to sort that out. Bloomin’ Europeans. Can’t get rid of ‘em.”
“Seven Seas eh?” said Rudge. “No time for the Sea of Cinders?”
Thackeray looked at him with cutlass eyes. He smirked. Moreland frowned. “I’ll have time for the Eighth Sea when you have time to tie your bootlaces in the morning without worrying that one of your crew will stab you in the back.”
You saunter in here once in a blue moon knowing everything about everyone, wearing imperial silk and Aztec jewellery
This was met with an “oooh” from the other crews, but he persisted. “I’m not the only one that’s thinking it, Thackeray.” He spoke her name with a bitter venom. “You saunter in here once in a blue moon knowing everything about everyone, wearing imperial silk and Aztec jewellery. You mock us for our small victories, yet you can’t even take the biggest prize of all. Surely your crew is getting … impatient?
“When you become the scourge of even one sea, let me know.”
A few moments passed, Rudge deep in thought when he revealed a single menacing gold tooth. “Y’know, I was chatting with that pint puller there.” He waved a grubby finger at me. “Said Hurricane was a rubbish name, and that women are bad luck on ships anyways.”
I didn’t even have time to curse the dirty liar before Thackeray had whipped around, eyes blazing. She was on me in seconds, knocking over a stack of dirty glasses before pinning me to the wall with a knife to my neck. There was an anger in her eyes I didn’t see in the drunken brawlers — it was deep and well-worn. Her breath was hot on my face. I couldn’t help but notice that she smelled of cannon fire and mangos.”What’s your name then?”
“Jo,” I croaked.
“Do you want to know why they call me The Hurricane?”
I could manage a nod.
“When I was 19, the English came and took my whole village as slaves. We were stuffed on a ship with no food, water or daylight, treated worse than animals. I watched half of them die from the pox and dehydration before the storm came. Only the strongest of us hadn’t lost faith. We used splinters from the decking to pick the locks of our chains, then we climbed abovedeck, stole their weapons and murdered every single one of those European scumbags in their sleep. We commandeered the ship and sailed ‘til we saw land. This land. In six years I’ve become the scourge of every sea, The Hurricane that wipes out warships and slavers during the darkest nights. I’ve killed more people with my sword than you’ve served drink. Women are unlucky? Why don’t you get a crew together and find out why I of all people have not taken over the sea of cinders?”
I swallowed, all too aware of the cold metal at my throat. A crew? Me? Not a hope, I thought. Yet there was some mirth hidden under her rage. It wasn’t a threat, it was a challenge.
“Uh!” My voice cracked. “Well, I’m no captain, m’lady but ah … weren’t you looking for a pair of fresh legs?”
All I could hear was the sea lapping against the rears of the boats outside and my own shaky breathing. Not even Elwood Rudge had anything to say. Then she grinned. Then she laughed, no, cackled. The rest of The Jade Dagger followed suit, banging on tables and roaring. “You? Join my crew?”
No going back now. “Well, why not?”
The laughter subsided, and the knife was gone. “If you think you’re up to it be at my ship at dawn, no later. I’ll show you unlucky,” she said.
With a flourish of her coat, she turned and left The Jade Dagger.
Finally, I thought, I’m a pirate.
