Marrion o Floinn Chronicles: Book One

It's cold.

Very cold. I could see my breath clouding the air and spiraling up into the dark. '...I want to be back home... by the fire with my family,' I whined, biting down on the gag. All the crewman were down below decks. I could hear their drunken laughter and quiet music from an accordion and violin. The smell of roast pig drifted across the deck from the crack under the door.

I curled up against the cold and tucked my numb hands between my thighs and torso, head bowed to rest on my knees. I stared at the scuff marks on the deck between my feet. Five. Five days I had been roped to the mast. No blanket to keep me warm. No food, not even a husk of bread. And just enough sips of water to keep me alive.

I shuddered and squeezed my eyes shut. Tap! I opened my eyes slowly at the sound and the smell of roast pig curled around my nose, mouthwatering strong. My gaze dropped down to a hunk of cooked meat and fresh buttered bread. I groaned and licked my dry lips. Slowly, I uncurled myself from my ball and reached for the plate. My bonds and the rope around my middle kept me from touching it. 'Bloody –' A long fingered hand picked the plate up and set it on a stool, scooting the stool up around my legs like a small table used to eat breakfast in bed.

I glanced over and a man offered a smile, framed by a closely trimmed black beard. His cool green eyes twinkled in the starlight and he tucked his hands into fur-lined coat pockets. I was jealous. I wanted a coat.

The tall man (five eight, at least), bent down and sat on the damp deck beside me, pulling a set of tarnished silverware from one of his pockets and the gag from my mouth. He sliced off a bite of meat and held it up to my lips. I stared at it. “Go on,” he waved the morsel in front of my mouth and I took it gingerly, chewing slowly. The man chuckled as he sliced off another bite, “`Tis not poisoned, Lady Adelaide. I cut it from the hog meself.” He held the second morsel to my lips and I took it more quickly. His smile brightened.

“You're Irish,” I croaked after swallowing. My throat was parched. I had done nothing but scream into my gag for the first three days of my captivity.

The man nodded, picking up the buttered bread. “Known Cap'ten since I was a small boy. He not called the Irish Devil for no reason.”

I blinked at the man, taking a bite of the bread. Swallowing, I tried to lick the dryness from my mouth. But my tongue felt thick and parched. The man glanced at me, arching his dark eyebrows, and set the fork back on the plate. He unbuttoned his coat and pulled out a water-skin, twisting off the cork and bringing it to my lips.

The water was warm from the heat of his body. Usually I would have taken it cold, but the warmth seeped into my numb fingers and toes. He pulled the skin away and tucked it back into his coat. I licked my lips, wetting them, and murmured, “For no reason...” I looked up at the man as he picked the fork back up, “Then why is – ” I paused, uncertain as to what I should call him. Not captain, I wasn't a crew member; not by his first name, it was too informal “ – o Floinn known as the Irish Devil?”

The man laughed and I took the bite he offered. “He is most known for the Gallows.” 'Owen was speaking of those thrice hangings...' “Not a soul can figure how he done it. Three times Cap'ten was hanged and pronounced dead, Red Coats waking the following morn to a dug up grave.”

“Those rumors are true?” I half spluttered. Then I snapped my mouth shut, eyes widening at my boldness to interrupt. The lessons to be a proper lady were fraying; I could feel them beginning to peel away. I needed to free myself, and quick. I was losing myself and hadn't realized it.

'No no no! I can't give in! I've been nothing but treated like a common prisoner!' I sighed, bowing my head and closing my eyes. I was a common prisoner.

I groaned softly and tried to lift my hands. My limbs felt heavy and my head was groggy. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. “What's... goin' on...” I slurred.

The man sighed and ran a hand over the cropped curls of his head. “I apologize, little colleen.” His figure was blurry as he stood, picking up the stool and plate of left over food. “Ya need a proper rest.” He stepped away and turned his back on me as my head lolled forward, heavy eyes slipping shut as the door snapped closed behind him.

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Scrish-scrash. Scrish-scrash. Scrish-scrash. Scrish... Scrish. Scrish –

The sound of a brush against the deck lulled me out of my slumber. I blinked sleep from my eyes. It was still dark, though a sliver of warm light shimmered on the horizon.

I groaned. My head was throbbing. I rested my forehead against my knees and felt something rough against my skin. I lifted my head and squinted my eyes, trying to use the faint light from a nearby candlelit lamp. A thin wool blanket was draped over me.

I huffed, shaking my head to clear the webs of forced sleep. Clunk clunk clunk. A pair of knee-high boots filled my vision and o Floinn knelt down in front of me. I hadn't seen him in days. Not since he demanded me tied to the mast. I hated him. My eyes narrowed when he opened his mouth to speak. “Someone unbind her!” he barked, “And walk her around the ship.” He stood and turned towards the burly pirate whom had carried me over his shoulder aboard the ship. O Floinn stepped up to the larger man as he worked on the knots in the rope. The pirate captain leaned down and hissed in his ear: “And don't let her out of your sight. Leash her if you must.”

The man nodded and the ropes loosened around my middle. The bald pirate pulled the ropes away with ease, dropping them at my feet, then he leaned down and took my wrist – wrenching me up to stand on my feet.

My knees buckled. A hand caught the neck of my dress and stood me back up again. It felt strange to put weight on my legs. The ship heaved to the side and threw me against the burly pirate. Gunshots and laughter crackling in the distance caught my attention and I glanced down the ship. A gangplank was laid down and a continuous line of pirates loped up and down it from pier to ship and back again – they were carrying boxes, trunks, and crates, and rolling barrels up the gangplank.

I moved myself away from the pirate holding me up and turned, leaning against the sun-bleached railing. I smoothed my cuffed hands along the wood. Pine, spruce, and white oak. The ship would have been pale anyway. O Floinn had to be a very brave and bold man to make the Red Irish Devil his flagship. It would be a beacon in the dark and daylight, light from the moon and sun easily glinted off its surface. In addition to red sails? He was asking to be caught.

I leaned over the railing and peered down the docks. Pirates were everywhere! They couldn't possibly be all under o Floinn's command!

The side of my hand brushed against a column of wood and I glanced over at a handful of shovels leaning against the rail. Whack! The burly pirate stumbled and fell against the side of the ship. 'What have I done?!' My eyes widened in shock as the shovel slipped from my grasp, staring at the stunned man. I gasped and stumbled towards the gangplank, pushing through the throng of pirates carrying provisions. A few lost their footing and swung around, hitting the man behind them with the crate they carried, knocking each other off balance and falling into the bay between the hull and pier – barking curses at each other.

I tripped on the dock and scraped my knee. I could just barely carry my own weight. I stumbled up to my feet, panting, and gasped – a scream pierced the early dawn and the sickly man cackled in my face. He was missing an eye! Dark brandy drooled out his gaping smile, staining his greasy coat and shirt. I jerked around him, panting heavier, and tripped over my skirt. The old man's gaze burned into my back as I stumbled back up and ran down the dock, shoving men out of my way. This place was terrible! A nightmare!

Bang! I ducked. I peeked through my arms, kneeling on the ground. So many men. So many pirates! So many bloody guns! And they were drunk! A man in front of me was stumbling on his feet, a quarter full long-necked bottle in his hand. He belched into a fist and laughed, throwing his head back.

My eyes caught on an emerald skirt and I leaned around the drunkard. 'Women!' A part of me relaxed with relief. Perhaps they could help me. I crawled up onto my feet and trotted over to the two young women. I bent over onto my knees and gasped for breath. I jerked upright and gasped. My backside had been groped! The women laughed. “This place ain't fo' the likes of you, girly,” the woman in the green dress said.

I kept my body braced and tugged on the thick chain keeping my hands from touching my backside; I tried to will the rough touch from my memory.

Gunshots cracked like an irregular heartbeat.

I swallowed hard as I stared at the woman who had spoken. Her face was gaunt, cheeks hollowed out. Too much blush colored her protruding cheekbones. She was sick with disease. All the women in this town were... were prostitutes!

I took a step back away from them and the two women arched their blonde eyebrows. A cold blade touched my throat. I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut. A hard pressure pressed against the small of my back. Oh no! I was going to be raped!

An arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back against the man's body, his hand gripping the thick chain between my cuffs. I opened my eyes and hot tears rolled down my face. The nearest woman (in the green dress) perked up a little and tilted her head, a smile curving her too red mouth. “Captain Marrion o Floinn,” she purred, eyes glistening. She glanced back at her companion in blue. “You see this Annabelle? From what I hear from the others, he ain't bedded someone once.” She turned back to face us and smiled as Annabelle cackled.

O Floinn tensed and his grip tightened, stepping backwards. My chest hurt again from the pounding of my heart and I shook. 'Why had I acted such?!' O Floinn's words echoed and my tears tumbled faster. Oh no! He was going to rape me! He said... He said if I were good nothing terrible would happen to me!

I gasped as he yanked me back against him, the hardness pressing harder against the small of my back. I began to tremble. My virtue was going to be taken... How could I face Mother and Father – my family! They were worried sick about me! Oh, dear God. Mother was sick as it were... she couldn't handle this... and my brothers. I hoped they were taking care of Mother... Father was probably out searching for me.

O Floinn forced me up the gangplank and onto the ship. The man I had hit over the head with the shovel was sitting on a crate of chickens, a hunk of meat pressed to the side of his face. I whimpered and cried more as he looked up at me. The knife moved away from my throat and o Floinn shoved me forward. “Lock her in the brig.”

I stumbled as a man grasped the thick chain of my cuffs and wrenched me towards the door leading below deck. “You're... y-you're not going to rape me?!” I half yelled.

O Floinn stopped in his tracks, back facing me, then he half turned and looked at me. A smirk of a smile pulled up the left corner of his mouth and he arched his eyebrows, “Would you like me to?”