Naraku
Draconarius
I wrote the original version of this for a contest on The Dark Spot about 4 years ago (I tied for third). I wrote it rather quickly, which is unusual for me, and always meant to polish it up. Well, it took a while, but I finally got around to correcting a few errors 7 adding some details. There is a drawing in my Naraku's Non-crux Nonsense thread that accompanies this story. I hope you enjoy them both.
The Pirates of San Augustin
by Naraku
San Augustin, La Florida
27 March 1701
Don Marcelino de San Miguel adjusted his feather trimmed tricorn hat as he stepped outside. It was a pleasantly temperate day. The humidity was low and there was a gentle breeze from the northwest. With his richly embroidered, dark blue, knee length coat, his lace cravat, his silk sash and baldric and gold-hilt sword, he would have cut a fine figure on the boulevards of Madrid or Toledo. Instead, he was walking across the courtyard of the Castillo de San Marcos, the fortress on the Northern edge of San Augustin, capital of the Spanish colony of La Florida. Eight months ago, His Majesty King Carlos II (God rest his soul) had appointed Don Marcelino Captain-General and sent him to this outpost of His Empire on a special mission: He was to put an end to the predations of the English pirates. Easier said than done. The sea was vast, the pirates were swift and cunning and Don Marcelino had only three ships at his disposal. For eight months he had fruitlessly hunted the pirates who continued to seize the King's gold, silver, sugar and tobacco with impunity. But, just a week ago, he had achieved a small victory which he now intended to exploit.
After another futile search to the south, Don Marcelino was returning, when the lookout spotted a mast in the distance. A brigantine was lying at anchor in the channel between a barrier island and the mainland. It could only be pirates. Although he ordered his ships to make their best speed, Don Marcelino could only watch in frustration as the smaller, sleeker ship unfurled her sails and sped through the straight into the open ocean. With a favorable wind, it was really no chase. By nightfall, the pirate ship had passed from view, racing north toward the English stronghold of Charles Town, where the Spanish dared not follow.
At dawn Don Marcelino ordered the other two ships home, but sailed his flagship, the Ciervo Volante, back to the place where the pirates had been spotted the day before. It had occurred to him, that the pirates may have been taking on food and water. They must have cut their anchor when they spotted his ship and they may have left some of their crew behind. He was right. No sooner had he and his men come ashore, than they were fired upon from the saw grass atop a nearby dune. Realizing the enemy were few, the Spaniards charged. Cresting the dune, they saw five pirates fleeing towards the woods and set off in pursuit. Musket fire felled one and another was wounded by a ball glancing off his head. A tall, blond pirate shocked the pursuers when he turned and charged with a cutlass in each hand. He killed three men before falling himself. But, his attempt to buy his comrades time to escape failed. By now the Spaniards realized the remaining pirates were women in male attire. The dark haired one was caught and subdued quickly when she stepped in a tortoise hole and twisted her ankle. The redhead put up a fight using her musket as a club and knocked out a few men's teeth and broke one's arm before she was overpowered. The soldiers would have killed her right there if Don Marcelino hadn't intervened. He realized this minor victory could be exploited. They had killed two pirates, captured three and driven off their ship. What was more, though not unheard of, female pirates were still a rarity and the capture of two would be quite a sensation. The women were quickly clapped in irons and, with their unconscious male comrade, locked in the ship's hold to be taken back to San Augustin.
Unfortunately, the man had died of his wound by the time they docked the following day. But, the women were going to star in a public performance Don Marcelino had planned that would be known from Port Royal to Boston and was sure to be the talk of the court in Madrid.
Don Marcelino mounted his stallion as the entire garrison snapped to attention. Adjusting his sword and brushing back his long, curly dark hair - no wig for him - the Captain-General gave a signal to Lieutenant Valez, who in turn waived to Sergeant Alfonso, who gave the order to bring out the prisoners. It was almost noon and time for the show to begin.
The two women were brought out of the storeroom that had served as their cell. Both had iron collars around their necks with a short chain by which they were pulled along. Their hands were bound behind their backs. They wore nothing but their breeches, having been stripped of everything else, including their boots and gold earrings. Both women looked young and strong. It was clear they were both true members of their piratical crew and not just playmates for the men. Their bodies were firm but not too muscular. Lean but not scrawny. Their faces were tanned but not weathered by too many years at sea.
The redhead was of average height with small, pert breast. Her face was freckled and her nose turned up slightly. Her hair was cut short, about collar length, which gave her a somewhat boyish look when clothed. Now, naked from the waist up, there was no mistaking her for a boy. She seemed the younger of the two, though neither could be much over 20. She might have been a pretty peasant lass if not for two things. First was a dark blue tattoo that covered most of the upper part of her left arm. The other was the rage that contorted her features. She was snarling and cursing from the moment they brought her out. Most of it was in English, which no one in the garrison understood, especially when being shouted in what must have been a lower-class accent. But, she knew a bit of Spanish, mostly the foulest obscenities, which she liberally mixed into her venomous diatribe.
The redhead resisted as she was dragged by the chain toward an open sided, mule drawn wagon. Sergeant Alfonso helped her along with a kick in the ass, which made her stumble forward and drew laughs from the solders. It took four men to haul her, kicking and cursing, onto the bed of the wagon. It took three men to hold her down in a kneeling position while another turned the iron collar around and nailed the chain to the wagon bed behind her buttocks. They left her there, immobile but still quite vocal.
Her companion was a complete contrast. She was taller, almost as tall as the solders around her. Her straight, jet-black hair was shoulder length and cut in bangs across her forehead. Her breast were larger than the other girl's, but they were firm and unsagging. She had a long, thin aquiline nose and high cheekbones. It occurred to Don Marcelino that, with a bit of grooming and the proper clothes, she could pass for a lady of breeding. The impression was furthered by her demeanor. While the redhead was cursing and fighting like a savage, the brunet was calm and stoic. She offered no resistance as she was lead, not pulled toward the wagon. Only the slight limp from her still injured ankle marred her air of dignity. She allowed herself to be secured to the wagon bed to the right of the redhead. She sat there quietly staring straight ahead, ignoring everything around her, including her bellicose shipmate.
While Lieutenant Valez and Sergeant Alfonso assembled the troops into parade order, Don Marcelino took a few moments to admire his prizes. Both were attractive and had been washed and combed before being brought out. As a veteran solder, Don Marcelino knew what could happen to female captives. This didn't bother him, it was the nature of common solders and the fate of common women. But, he had given strict orders that they were not to marked from the waist up and especially not in the face. He wanted them to look their best for their public appearance. And it seemed his orders had been obeyed. Other than some small bruises here and there, the women were undamaged. But, it seemed like the same could not be said of his men. Don Marcelino noted, with some amusement, that several sported black eyes and swollen lips. A few also walked a bit awkwardly, indicating injuries not visible while dressed. It was clear the women had not accepted their abuse passively.
Before riding up to join Lieutenant Valez at the head of the column, Don Marcelino took a last look at the women up close. The brunet still sat silently, but the redhead glared up at him and snapped off a comment in poorly pronounced Spanish questioning his mother's virtue. Don Marcelino smiled and rode away, wondering what that tattoo was on her arm. It looked like a letter "S", or maybe an "F", or it could have been a dragon. Leaving the question aside, he nodded to Lieutenant Valez, who ordered the portcullis raised and the troops to march forward.
To be continued...
The Pirates of San Augustin
by Naraku
San Augustin, La Florida
27 March 1701
Don Marcelino de San Miguel adjusted his feather trimmed tricorn hat as he stepped outside. It was a pleasantly temperate day. The humidity was low and there was a gentle breeze from the northwest. With his richly embroidered, dark blue, knee length coat, his lace cravat, his silk sash and baldric and gold-hilt sword, he would have cut a fine figure on the boulevards of Madrid or Toledo. Instead, he was walking across the courtyard of the Castillo de San Marcos, the fortress on the Northern edge of San Augustin, capital of the Spanish colony of La Florida. Eight months ago, His Majesty King Carlos II (God rest his soul) had appointed Don Marcelino Captain-General and sent him to this outpost of His Empire on a special mission: He was to put an end to the predations of the English pirates. Easier said than done. The sea was vast, the pirates were swift and cunning and Don Marcelino had only three ships at his disposal. For eight months he had fruitlessly hunted the pirates who continued to seize the King's gold, silver, sugar and tobacco with impunity. But, just a week ago, he had achieved a small victory which he now intended to exploit.
After another futile search to the south, Don Marcelino was returning, when the lookout spotted a mast in the distance. A brigantine was lying at anchor in the channel between a barrier island and the mainland. It could only be pirates. Although he ordered his ships to make their best speed, Don Marcelino could only watch in frustration as the smaller, sleeker ship unfurled her sails and sped through the straight into the open ocean. With a favorable wind, it was really no chase. By nightfall, the pirate ship had passed from view, racing north toward the English stronghold of Charles Town, where the Spanish dared not follow.
At dawn Don Marcelino ordered the other two ships home, but sailed his flagship, the Ciervo Volante, back to the place where the pirates had been spotted the day before. It had occurred to him, that the pirates may have been taking on food and water. They must have cut their anchor when they spotted his ship and they may have left some of their crew behind. He was right. No sooner had he and his men come ashore, than they were fired upon from the saw grass atop a nearby dune. Realizing the enemy were few, the Spaniards charged. Cresting the dune, they saw five pirates fleeing towards the woods and set off in pursuit. Musket fire felled one and another was wounded by a ball glancing off his head. A tall, blond pirate shocked the pursuers when he turned and charged with a cutlass in each hand. He killed three men before falling himself. But, his attempt to buy his comrades time to escape failed. By now the Spaniards realized the remaining pirates were women in male attire. The dark haired one was caught and subdued quickly when she stepped in a tortoise hole and twisted her ankle. The redhead put up a fight using her musket as a club and knocked out a few men's teeth and broke one's arm before she was overpowered. The soldiers would have killed her right there if Don Marcelino hadn't intervened. He realized this minor victory could be exploited. They had killed two pirates, captured three and driven off their ship. What was more, though not unheard of, female pirates were still a rarity and the capture of two would be quite a sensation. The women were quickly clapped in irons and, with their unconscious male comrade, locked in the ship's hold to be taken back to San Augustin.
Unfortunately, the man had died of his wound by the time they docked the following day. But, the women were going to star in a public performance Don Marcelino had planned that would be known from Port Royal to Boston and was sure to be the talk of the court in Madrid.
Don Marcelino mounted his stallion as the entire garrison snapped to attention. Adjusting his sword and brushing back his long, curly dark hair - no wig for him - the Captain-General gave a signal to Lieutenant Valez, who in turn waived to Sergeant Alfonso, who gave the order to bring out the prisoners. It was almost noon and time for the show to begin.
The two women were brought out of the storeroom that had served as their cell. Both had iron collars around their necks with a short chain by which they were pulled along. Their hands were bound behind their backs. They wore nothing but their breeches, having been stripped of everything else, including their boots and gold earrings. Both women looked young and strong. It was clear they were both true members of their piratical crew and not just playmates for the men. Their bodies were firm but not too muscular. Lean but not scrawny. Their faces were tanned but not weathered by too many years at sea.
The redhead was of average height with small, pert breast. Her face was freckled and her nose turned up slightly. Her hair was cut short, about collar length, which gave her a somewhat boyish look when clothed. Now, naked from the waist up, there was no mistaking her for a boy. She seemed the younger of the two, though neither could be much over 20. She might have been a pretty peasant lass if not for two things. First was a dark blue tattoo that covered most of the upper part of her left arm. The other was the rage that contorted her features. She was snarling and cursing from the moment they brought her out. Most of it was in English, which no one in the garrison understood, especially when being shouted in what must have been a lower-class accent. But, she knew a bit of Spanish, mostly the foulest obscenities, which she liberally mixed into her venomous diatribe.
The redhead resisted as she was dragged by the chain toward an open sided, mule drawn wagon. Sergeant Alfonso helped her along with a kick in the ass, which made her stumble forward and drew laughs from the solders. It took four men to haul her, kicking and cursing, onto the bed of the wagon. It took three men to hold her down in a kneeling position while another turned the iron collar around and nailed the chain to the wagon bed behind her buttocks. They left her there, immobile but still quite vocal.
Her companion was a complete contrast. She was taller, almost as tall as the solders around her. Her straight, jet-black hair was shoulder length and cut in bangs across her forehead. Her breast were larger than the other girl's, but they were firm and unsagging. She had a long, thin aquiline nose and high cheekbones. It occurred to Don Marcelino that, with a bit of grooming and the proper clothes, she could pass for a lady of breeding. The impression was furthered by her demeanor. While the redhead was cursing and fighting like a savage, the brunet was calm and stoic. She offered no resistance as she was lead, not pulled toward the wagon. Only the slight limp from her still injured ankle marred her air of dignity. She allowed herself to be secured to the wagon bed to the right of the redhead. She sat there quietly staring straight ahead, ignoring everything around her, including her bellicose shipmate.
While Lieutenant Valez and Sergeant Alfonso assembled the troops into parade order, Don Marcelino took a few moments to admire his prizes. Both were attractive and had been washed and combed before being brought out. As a veteran solder, Don Marcelino knew what could happen to female captives. This didn't bother him, it was the nature of common solders and the fate of common women. But, he had given strict orders that they were not to marked from the waist up and especially not in the face. He wanted them to look their best for their public appearance. And it seemed his orders had been obeyed. Other than some small bruises here and there, the women were undamaged. But, it seemed like the same could not be said of his men. Don Marcelino noted, with some amusement, that several sported black eyes and swollen lips. A few also walked a bit awkwardly, indicating injuries not visible while dressed. It was clear the women had not accepted their abuse passively.
Before riding up to join Lieutenant Valez at the head of the column, Don Marcelino took a last look at the women up close. The brunet still sat silently, but the redhead glared up at him and snapped off a comment in poorly pronounced Spanish questioning his mother's virtue. Don Marcelino smiled and rode away, wondering what that tattoo was on her arm. It looked like a letter "S", or maybe an "F", or it could have been a dragon. Leaving the question aside, he nodded to Lieutenant Valez, who ordered the portcullis raised and the troops to march forward.
To be continued...
