Overboard!, Page 3

  “She cut off my finger!” he was yelling. “Look – I’ve only got four now. It’s...” Daisy nodded once to the four men who surrounded her. As one they moved rapidly, and grabbing Dooley by the arms, carried him to the side of the ship that was not tethered to the Scarlet Daisy and threw him into the sea. There was a loud scream, followed by a splash, muffled gurgling screaming and then silence once again. The four men returned to surround Scarlet Daisy, their poise once again completely immobile, as if nothing had happened. The crew of the Blue Nun began to turn even paler, now to a man almost wishing to be able to disappear into the background. Somewhere on the quarterdeck everyone listened, as someone appeared to have dropped a pin.

  “There.” Said Scarlet Daisy sadly. “Silence. That’s better. Ah.” She said as the black robed figure re-appeared from below decks, carrying several what seemed to be small, flat glass display cases. “Here’s Mr Bones. Bring them here, Bones. Let us all rejoice in the captain’s fine collection, shall we?”

  Nolan shook his head, but was very careful not to move in any way whatsoever. He did however flinch slightly and grit his teeth as Bones lowered four glass display cases onto the deck before Scarlet Daisy. Bones returned to his position behind her and was once again completely immobile. She glanced down at the cases on the deck, all of which seemed to contain several brightly coloured but very dead butterflies, all pinned neatly to carefully maintained felt covered boards. Nolan allowed himself a small gasp, but kept his hands exactly where everyone could see them.

  “Bit of a lepidopterist, aren’t we?” asked Scarlet Daisy as she picked up the first case and releasing the catches, slid the glass cover off the front of it.

  “They never proved nothing.” Growled Nolan, watching intently as Daisy released the pins holding the large beautifully coloured but very dead butterfly in place. She held the butterfly up to the sun to examine it, whilst also letting the glass case fall to the deck, where it shattered into several large pieces. Nolan gasped once again. “Circumstantial was all they had. Nothing else.”

  “Come, Nolan.” Said Scarlet Daisy. “The map.” She lowered the butterfly to waist level, staring at the captain once again.

  “No idea what you are talking about.” Gasped Nolan, his eyes now firmly fixed on the large red butterfly. “Be careful with that.” He sighed, “It’s a Calopdopian Admiral” is that. Very rare.”

  “Is that so?” asked Scarlet Daisy sweetly, before gripping the dead butterfly a little more tightly and then ever so slowly pulling one of the wings off it.

  “Noooo!” yelled Nolan, and darted forward to seize the butterfly from Scarlet Daisy. Instantly two of the four large men surrounding her darted forward and held Nolan by his arms. Nolan continued to struggle as Scarlet Daisy tore off the other wing and tossed the now dilapidated carcass of the butterfly over her shoulder. Grinning she picked another of the cases up and opened this one too. This one contained a larger butterfly that was such a deep shade of blue it was almost black. Nolan gasped and continued to struggle, but could not move at all, so tight was their grip. The crew of the Blue Nun shrunk back as Daisy raised the butterfly up to the sun to examine it once again. Nolan barely registered the shape of the black clad figure that still failed to move, but he got the distinct impression that beneath the robe Mr Bones was definitely grinning.

  “The map.” Repeated Scarlet Daisy as she lowered the blue butterfly to waist level, preparing to rip the wings off this one too. Nolan sobbed, attempting to break the grip of the two pirates holding him, but found it impossible to do so. Daisy grinned, and gripped the butterfly even tighter. Finally, Nolan relented.

  “Okay.” He sighed, and Scarlet Daisy loosened her grip on the butterfly. “I give in.”

  “Well done.” She grinned. “I knew you would see sense.” Nolan dropped his head, his shoulders drooping.

  “I don’t have the map.” He almost whispered, raising his eyes to Scarlet Daisy once again, noticing ominously the raised eyebrow. “The Golden Octopus made me pass it to Mad Jenkins. He’s in hard Knocks now, meeting with them. This trip was just a decoy.”

  The black robed figure stepped forward suddenly just once pace, and almost the entire crew of the Blue Nun took a step backwards.

  “He lies!” the figure spat, the deep voice once again sounding as if Mr Bones was speaking through a mouth full of stones. Scarlet Daisy cocked her head to one side, her full attention remaining on Nolan.

  “Now why would they do that, Captain Nolan?” she enquired sweetly.

  “Stands to reason.” Sniffed the now defeated captain. “The Golden Octopus thinks the map is just a fantasy. Getting mad Jenkins out of the way on a fool’s errand seems to be a good way of keeping him and the map out of harm’s way, as it were. It would be good for business if they weren’t around anymore.”

  Scarlet Daisy watched the captain for a moment before dropping the butterfly to the deck. “I think he is telling the truth, Mr Bones.” She concluded. “I can see the benefit of getting Mad Jenkins out of the way as the captain here says.” Mr Bones said nothing, and Nolan’s eyes fell to the cases scattered on the deck before him. Scarlet Daisy gave a loud whistle, and Nolan noticed the ropes to the grappling hooks that held the two ships together immediately being severed by the crew still aboard the Scarlet Daisy. “Return the cases below decks, please, Mr Bones.” She said. “Ensure everything is returned correctly. We wish there to be no untidiness remaining.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Growled Mr Bones as he moved forward and scooped the remaining cases up and vanished below decks with them.

  “Thank you for your cooperation.” She smiled as she moved towards the rail of the Blue Nun, carefully noting the distance between the two now rapidly disengaging ships. Jumping up onto the railing she leaped across the gap, followed by the four members of her crew, and was gone. Nolan staggered forward, now released, as Mr Bones re-appeared from below decks and racing across the deck, leaped across the wide gap between the ships. The Magpie seemed to almost buck in the wind, and made swift progress away from the Blue Nun.

  “Captain?” enquired one of Nolan’s crew. “What do we do now? Shall we make an attempt to repair the sails?” Nolan just shrugged, and made to the railing around the deck to watch Daisy’s ship depart as it headed rapidly south.

  Scarlet Daisy stood on the bridge and gave the order to head south. “We have an appointment with the Golden Octopus in Hard Knocks.” She said, and the crew made ready to move south as fast as the ship could. Mr Bones stood beside her, once again completely immobile.

  “You believe Nolan?” he growled and Daisy nodded.

  “It falls in line with what we already know. Poor Nolan was just a decoy. He said as much.”

  “Sadly for him.” Grunted Mr Bones, followed by what may or may not have been a stone gravelled attempt at laughter.

  “Indeed.” Sighed Scarlet Daisy, raising her eyeglass to the now rapidly diminishing shape of the Blue Nun. As she watched there was a sudden detonation that rang through the air and a pillar of fire seemed to erupt from the now distant shape of the other ship. Several louder detonations then took place as the Blue Nun’s powder store exploded. A dark column of smoke flew high into the air, debris falling down through the grey clouds. When it cleared the Blue Nun was gone.

  “Indeed.” She repeated, and leaving Mr Bones on deck, made a tour of her ship to ensure that the journey to Hard Knocks was a swift one. As she did so she reflected upon the now presumably drowned captain’s attitude to her sudden capture of his ship. Her reputation very much preceded her now of course, but it had not always been the case. As she checked the trim of the sails unfurled above her, the wind pushing the ship sleekly through the waves, she recalled the look on the captain’s face at her appearance. The somewhat over the top boots and general dress sense gave most people an opinion of her character before she even opened her mouth. Particularly the low cut blouse. Daisy snorted to herself as she contemplated that most people would be surprised to find t
hat that she was in fact of relatively high upbringing. That it was not common knowledge was very much down to Daisy’s almost complete eradication of her past. Yet she remembered her life as a merchant’s daughter in the city of Meesha on The Old Coast with fondness that she hid from every other person she ever met. She was not the daughter of just any merchant either. Her father had been supplier of fine silks and trinkets from the far east, as well as other harder to find goods too to the more elite customers of that town.

  Her life as a merchant's daughter had been laid out for her in a predictable fashion of course. Her mother, Petrina, had almost obsessively timetabled her life out for her, including presumably marriage to another high-ranking family at some point. As she grew older she began to realise their elevated position in society, and with it the restrictions that certainly her mother placed upon her.

  “Daisy.” her mother had patiently explained to her one day in that annoying habit of overbearing superiority that she had apparently carefully cultivated over the years. “It will soon be time for your schooling to move into the areas which as a wife you should be expected to perform for your husband.” Daisy had raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the mention of a husband but continued to listen carefully.

  “Yes mama?” she had said carefully. “What subjects are you considering for me?” Her mother had laughed at this, fanning herself as she sat by the open window, smiling gently. Daisy remembered it as if it was yesterday.

  “Well you shall require full schooling in the areas of domestic science, staff handling and so forth.” she said dismissively, looking up at the ceiling as if trying to remember whether there was anything she had forgotten. “Maybe a little tutoring in sewing and letter writing may assist too.” Daisy had said nothing at the time - she knew her mother far too well to argue - but the very thought filled her with dread. Her brothers had no such restrictions placed upon them, being tutored in self-defence, fencing and the like. Daisy was not so much jealous as pathologically perturbed by the fact that if you were in possession of a full set of (admittedly impressive) bosoms then society treated you somewhat differently than those without said bosoms. Daisy rebelled (quietly) at almost every turn against the aspects of her life that her mother tried ever so carefully to enforce upon her.

  The kitchen of their family home would soon be useable again, for example. Despite the small amount of gunpowder that had mysteriously found itself in the oven during her last domestic science lesson. Who could possibly be so obsessed with pastries anyway? Several decorum and etiquette tutors had left very suddenly and often under what could be considered to be mysterious circumstances over the years. Daisy simply smiled sweetly at her mother’s questioning upon such occasions, using her charm school lessons to exceptionally good effect as she effectively denied everything.

  It was upon such a day that she dropped in to see her brothers who were enrolled in fencing school. She watched enviously as the tutor put them through their paces, the long thin blades flashing in the morning sun shining through the wooden floored classroom as the tutor first backed off and then advanced, easily overcoming his pupil’s attacks seemingly with ease. She noticed the tutor looking at her casually out of the corner of his eye, and his attack increased, overcoming his pupil’s feeble efforts almost effortlessly. “Show off” she remembered thinking to herself as back in the present she inspected the cannons below decks on her ship. She had been more and more aware of men looking at her over the years, and she dressed modestly most of the time and her tutors had told her to get used to it. “Men will be men.” they had said, but she did not feel as if she would ever get used to it.

  The fencing tutor however seemed almost to be leering. Nick Blade was, she thought, his rather appropriate name, and he was to most of the society ladies about Meesha someone who could possibly be considered to be a bit of a rake. Daisy thought he was certainly a tool of some kind, though possibly not a rake as such. He was at least six foot four with loose curled blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile that he thought he could charm anyone he turned it on, it would be fair to say that Nick's greatest admirer lived inside his mirror. Daisy had despised him on sight, and he continued to live up to her low estimation of him every time she stopped by to observe the fencing classes, which was increasingly often. Nick of course totally failed to register the fact that Daisy was more interested in the sword fighting than him; a conclusion his finely tuned ego could never ever even begin to contemplate.

  “I see your sister has returned to observe your feeble efforts again.” Smiled Blade as her brother made his way out of the training circle. Daisy raised an eyebrow at him and went on her way. Yet the fencing occupied her mind. She found herself balancing a walking cane of her fathers in her hand, swishing the stick backwards and forwards, finding the balance of it in her hand. She lunged forward at the curtains in her room, attacking an imaginary assailant, and at the same time knocking a small glass vase on the table by the window onto the floor, the ornament shattering into pieces as it hit the ground. A small cough from behind her made her spin on the spot, and the cane swung around with ease, and she looked on as horror as her father who was stood behind her met the full force of the stick with his arm.

  “Father!” she exclaimed in shock, but to her relief he was laughing, and he gave her a quick hug as the pair of them kneeled down to begin picking up the shards of broken ornament before her mother noticed its demise.

  “I would have thought swordplay is not a part of your schooling, Daisy.” he smiled, passing her a larger piece of glass.

  “But is so unfair, father!” Exclaimed Daisy. “The boys get to do all of the good things while I am forced to endure cooking and cleaning and sewing. It is simply ridiculous!” Her father had laughed at her outburst, and his face was not unsympathetic.

  “Society expects certain things of its ladies, Daisy.” he had sighed. “As it indeed does of its sons. Rarely do the two mingle.”

  “That is not much of an argument, father.” she chided him. “It seems I am doomed to a life of sewing and making myself look pretty.” Her father had smiled his faraway smile and cast his eyes across the walking cane that lay on the floor beside them.

  “Sword play is it?” he smiled as the final piece of glass was placed safely off to one side. Standing he picked the cane up, almost as if lost in thought. “Still. Self-defence is an admirable trait in a lady. The world of men is a world of fools.” He concluded sadly. “Maybe I could persuade your mother a little gentle tuition in the use of a sword may be useful.” Daisy almost exploded with delight.

  “Father!” she said, hugging him and a week later after some considerable and no doubt protracted negotiations between her father and her mother she found herself enrolled in six month’s worth of fencing classes, under the vigilance of the apparently slack jawed tutor, Nick Blade.

  “Well, well.” he said, eying her from head to foot as she stood before him on her first day, his eyes seeming to linger on her like molasses. She felt a shiver of revulsion run down her spine. “Nice chest.” he said, a smile crossing his leering face. “Very nice indeed.” Daisy had said nothing and her first lessons seemed to concentrate almost exclusively on the many different ways her tutor could send her crashing to the floor. In her first month she had been so covered in bruises that her mother had threatened to withdraw her from the classes, but her father had to his credit insisted that she should continue.

  “Let us not teach our daughter to be a person who gives up on things when times get tough.” he had said to his wife in the voice that brooked no disagreement. Daisy’s heart had soared at his words and she threw herself into learning the art of swordplay with even more gusto.

  She was amazed however to discover that she had a talent for it. It was simply a matter of speed and balance combined with cunning and an edge of ruthlessness. Nick Blade seemed to promote all of these qualities in her, and even he eventually came to recognise her talents. Yet he did not seem to wish to further his pupil’s abilities. Af
ter all, he had informed her one day, she was a woman. She would be much better employed at the sewing table or in the kitchen. In an attempt to humiliate her, Blade always insisted that she make him a cup of coffee before class started, and made a great show of accepting it as she gave it to him. He had no idea of course that she had been spitting in the cup for at least the last month of course. Yet she spent every spare moment practising. Backwards and forwards she would dance, a walking cane extended before her, swishing effortlessly through the air, thrusting against invisible opponents. It was heavier than a sword of course, and so it helped her build up her arm muscles until it reached the point where a real sword seemed to almost float in her hand.

  Her increasing experience seemed to make her supposed tutor even more determined that she should fail. His taunting increased in line with her experience until one day in class she had tried an unsuspected move that she had been practising on her own, and had sent Nick Blade sprawling in the dust. Fury had raged across his face as his pupils stood around giggling at the sight of their tutor sprawled on the ground, Daisy standing above him, a huge grin playing across her face. Classes were cancelled for the rest of the day but the next morning Nick acted as if nothing had happened at all, although Daisy felt that he was just a little wary of her during his training session with her.

  She finished her inspection of the cannons and made her way to the stern of the ship, climbing up onto the quarterdeck. Ignoring the sailor manning the ship’s wheel there she stared out over the sea, hardly noticing at all the wake the Magpie left behind it as they sped across the water to Hard Knocks. The ocean receded, and as if in a dream her present surroundings faded and she was in her childhood room again, reading the note from Nick Blade inviting her to a private training session at the training school that evening. In retrospect she should have known he was up to no good, but she had been young and stupid back then. She was surprised when she had first turned up that he was not wearing his fencing clothes at all, in fact he seemed to have spent some considerable time to make himself presentable. There was a definite smell of cologne about him too.