The Rowankind books, Winterwood, Silverwolf and Rowankind (the latter due in December 2018) are narrated by Rossalinde (Ross) Tremayne, but every now and then one of the other characters likes to have his say. You can find Corwen’s piece here. This time it’s the turn of pirate captain Gentleman Jim…
James Mayo isn’t my real name and I never intended to become a pirate, but things happen.
My family had—still have I expect—a plantation in Virginia. With three older brothers, I was never in line to inherit much, so my father determined I should have a profession. He sent me to be educated at the College of William and Mary in Virginia, to study divinity can you believe? Unfortunately that was very shortly before my country had a serious argument over taxation with King George, and I absconded to join a militia.
If I have one very serious piece of advice it’s never to get roaring drunk with your comrades in a seaport while the fleet is recruiting. Portsmouth, Virginia was my downfall. When I came to my senses the ground was rolling beneath me and I perceived myself to be at sea. To make matters worse, it was a French ship of the line, a third-rater called the Jason in the fleet of Rear Admiral Destouches.
I had a few disagreements with my sudden transfer from the militia to the navy, but to my surprise, and to that of my captain, a fine sailor by the name of Jean de la Clocheterie, I took to the ocean. In recognition of my education I was elevated to the grand position of his cabin steward, where, I may say, I prospered. It’s surprising what you can learn once you’ve acquired a position of trust. I survived the battle of the Chesapeake in 1781, was on board the Jason at the Battle of Mona Passage a year later when she was captured by the British. I had no liking for the idea of being at the mercy of King George, who had a tendency to insist that Americans were subjects of the Crown and therefore eligible to become cannon fodder in the Royal Navy. Along with a few compatriots, I contrived to escape in the ship’s jolly-boat, and we made the shores of Hispaniola where there are many opportunities open to a young man of keen intelligence and fighting spirit.
I joined the crew of the Black Hawk, then captained by Edgar Ransome. It took me six years to work my way up to the top, but by the time I was twenty-seven I was captain, and Ransome was at the bottom of the sea.
I first saw Rossalinde Tremayne when her husband Will and I both chased down the same French merchantman. I wasn’t in the mood to fight two battles, and neither was he, so we agreed that I would take the cargo and he would take the ship for the bounty paid by the British. I was intrigued by Tremayne’s woman, fighting like a maniac, sword and pistol in hand. I didn’t know then that she was his wife. Though I’d barely spoken two words to the lady I couldn’t get her out of my head. Lust at first sight you might say.
A year later I received a missive from Tremayne asking for a parlez between privateers and pirates to sort out who would raid where. I might have refused outright. What concessions did we pirates need to give to those who considered themselves above us just because they had letters of marque from their monarch? Then I remembered the wench and wondered whether she was still with Tremayne.
I granted them parlez and invited those other pirate captains plying their trade in the Caribbean and across the Atlantic. Tremayne did likewise amongst his privateer acquaintances. We met three months later at the Golden Compass, in Ravenscraig, on the Island of Auvienne. My Island. My town. My tavern. My rules. Except Tremayne was a fierce negotiator and in the end I gave more concessions that I had planned. I blame the distraction. Tremayne had brought the wench with him, though she was a pale shadow of the woman I had seen before.
It turned out that only two months before, she’d given birth to a son, born early. He barely lived a few days and her grief was palpable. Tremayne did what he could, but I perceived she needed cheering up and so I went out of my way to be kind and attentive. I had my reasons, of course. Many a marriage has been soured by the death of a child, and I determined to be the one to pick up the pieces if their relationship shattered.
Alas, we became friends. I say alas, because in the end I wanted the best for her and that meant relinquishing her to Tremayne when we concluded our parlez. Her loyalty to him was unshakeable.
It took several months for the news of Tremayne’s death to reach me. To my credit my first instinct was shock. Men like Tremayne are not easily disposed of. But the sea had other ideas. He’d been killed by a falling spar at the height of a storm, and my lovely Ross was a widow. An available widow.
I hadn’t expected her to take over the captaincy of her ship, but news reached me that the Heart Of Oak was cruising the Caribbean for French shipping. I set my sails in that direction, but she was elusive. Then I heard she’d gone back to the Atlantic sea routes.
It was another couple of years until fate dropped her into my lap unexpectedly. A storm had damaged the Heart of Oak and she was forced to take shelter in a cove on my island. I hadn’t had any inclination, then, that she was mixed up in magic, but when I rode, with my men, to confront her and her crew, there was a box which made my stomach tingle. I’ve always been a little sensitive to magic and the box drew me almost as much as Ross did. I’d heard there was an Englishman prepared to pay well for such a thing. She gave up the box easily—maybe too easily—and accepted an invitation to dinner. I took the box and left Ross a mount to make the journey to Ravenscraig. I was half afraid that she wouldn’t come. To my surprise she did. I wined her and dined her, and wooed her as delicately as I could when all I wanted to do was to rip off her clothes and bed her until she was insensible. It seemed that she’s had enough of widowhood for she came to me willingly. I will not give away secrets of the bedchamber, but I thought that having come to me once she was mine.
I was wrong.
Ravenscraig came under attack that night from two British warships and in the panic and confusion, my lovely Ross slipped away, taking the magical box with her. I hadn’t known, until that night, that she was a witch. No wonder I was drawn to her.
Unfortunately I had already despatched a messenger to the Englishman who sought the box. His name was Walsingham and he made the journey to Ravenscraig and offered me a generous sum for laying a trap for the Heart of Oak. Ross wasn’t aboard, he said, so I was happy to do it. Unfortunately Walsingham was not only a liar, he was a magic user. We trapped Ross’ ship, and she was on it. I thought he was going to kill her, but when I objected he turned his magic against me. The next thing I knew I was in the water and swimming for my life as my ship’s powder magazine blew up behind me. I’ll gloss over the rest as it’s not a time I wish to remember. I was picked up by a pirate called Nicholas Thompson, Old Nick to his enemies; I doubt he has any friends.
By the time I escaped, I’d lost my ship, my crew, my island, and my self-respect. I slipped down the neck of a rum bottle, and might have stayed there, but Ross came into my life again. She had a new husband, Corwen, a wolf shapechanger, and they seemed very much in love. I can’t fault the man. He and Ross gave me back my island, my place at the head of the pirates, and my life.
The very last time I saw her I took both her hands in mine and kissed her cheeks. “If you get tired of dry land,” I said, “you know where to come.”
She smiled at me and said, “I do, but I won’t.”
I knew in my heart I would never see her again when she said, “Have a great life. Stay well and safe.”
I squeezed her hands once and then let her go. It was the most difficult thing I’d ever done, but her time on the ocean was over. She’d go back to England with her husband and continue to fight for the rights of magic users, because my dear Ross could never refuse a fight. She was – she still is – the bravest woman I ever knew, but didn’t count herself as anything special. That’s what made her so special to me. And I saw it in her husband’s eyes every time he looked at her.
She paused once on the gang plank to turn and wave, and then walked into her husband’s embrace. She’d found a good man. If I ever find a woman half as good as Rossalinde I might even be tempted to settle down, but until then I have my island, my ships, my tavern, and all it’s womanly delights.
But a man, even a pirate, can dream.