Emeline touched her arm. She didn’t know why. Perhaps out of desperation for company. Perhaps because she wanted to know more about her captor. Perhaps because something about the woman tugged at her heart. “Please stay a moment.”
The lady’s brows collided. “What for?”
“I’m curious. I’ve never met a lady master gunner.”
“First of all, I ain’t no lady.” She pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. “An’ I earned my post. I’m one of the best gunners in all the West Indies.”
Emeline smiled.
“Does that surprise you?” She raised an impudent brow as she balanced her boots on the tilting deck.
“Not at all. It pleases me to see a woman capable of doing a man’s work and proud of it.”
“And why not? Women can do most jobs better than men,” Charlie said with confidence.
“I quite agree. You should meet my grandmother. She once captained a pirate ship and won battles on her own.”
Surprise flitted across the woman’s expression, an expression that seemed to soften. A tiny smile lifted her lips. “I should like to hear that story one day.”
“I’m happy to relay it to you…. Charlie, is it?”
“My real name is Charlotte, but I prefer Charlie on board theSummons. No need to remind these lusty pirates I’m a woman.” She winked at Emeline.
Indeed. “So, that’s the name of this brig?” Emeline stored the information away in case she needed it later.
“Aye, named by the captain. Something about a new call on his life.” She gripped the handle of a pistol stuffed in her belt. “You’re not like most fine ladies I meet, all hoity toity, looking down their noses at me.”
Emeline nearly laughed. “Nay. I was raised on a ship.”
“Humph.” Suspicion furrowed Charlie’s brow as the brig careened over a wave.
Emeline pressed a hand on the bulkhead to keep from falling. “May I ask you something?”
Charlie merely stared at her.
“Does the captain kidnap women often?” Since it seemed this lady was a champion of women, perhaps she’d not agree to one of her gender being mistreated.
“Kidnap, nay. But aye, he’s had his share of wenches aboard.”
Of that Emeline had no doubt. “Do you think he means me harm?”
She shrugged. “Who knows wit’ him. He’s a reckless type, that one. Both his moods and actions none can predict.”
Wonderful.
Emeline drew a deep breath and lowered to sit on the cot. The cold bars chilled her through the threadbare mattress.
Charlie started to leave, then spun back. “But never fear, Miss. You ain’t his usual fare. Besides, he’s not a cruel man, not as evil as some pirate captains.”
With that she left, slamming the door, leaving Emeline alone with her rats and her fears and no more assurance of her safety than before.
As promised, the young lad Pedro soon arrived. He greeted her with a boyish grin and shoved plates of rotted food and what must have been poor Barnacle Ben’s clothing into a huge burlap sack.
“Thank you, Pedro. You’re a good lad.”
The boy stopped short and stared at her. “I’m no lad,señorita, I’m a man already.” His voice deepened, cracked, then raised again as if to prove his point.
She smiled. “Of course. You’re right.”
