Chapter 9: The Fort pt. 3 

The high-pitched screams and futile pleas of some wench woke me up. The guards were muscling a local prostitute into the cell the Puritans had just vacated. I didn’t know the girl's name, but I’d seen her around enough and dealt with plenty of her clients.

 

The guards slammed the door and locked it, then walked out mumbling about how minding a prison full of females was beneath them. The prostitute shook the bars and hollered and screamed at the men to come back and let her out. She was giving me a headache. I took off my boot and threw it at the bars dividing our cells. It had worked on the rats. 

 

“Shut up!” I yelled.

 

The whore finally noticed my presence and made a noise of disgust. “Locked up with the Bitch Captain of the Seven Seas.” She slid down the wall and sat facing me. “Wonderful.” Then she noticed the stockpile of food I had stashed in the cell. “Can I get some of that bread?” 

 

I looked over at the pile of rolls Andrews kept sending to tempt me into marrying him then back at her. “No.”

 

She made a noise of disgust and a rude gesture. I put my hat back over my eyes and leaned against the wall to rest. 

 

It was barely an hour before another damn guard was in with more food. The whore began screaming at him immediately to release her, to call the lieutenant, to give her some food too, to let her go, how this was completely uncalled for. I started threatening that he better stop bringing in all this food, to tell Andrews where he could stick all his generosity, to get me some paper to send a note to Izzy. We were both at the bars shouting our various threats and demands in a tidal wave of high-pitched noise and echoes. He dropped the bowl unceremoniously on the floor and all but sprinted away. The whore and I retreated to our walls.

 

“Please. I’m starving,” she begged. 

 

She was so pitiful I relented. I pushed the bowl through the bars with my feet. The whore gobbled it up then ogled more of my stash. 

 

“Are those wine bottles full?” she asked. If you give a mouse a cookie...

 

“Yup.” I put my hat over my eyes and leaned back against the wall.

“Can I have one?” She draped her arms through the bars and simpered at me.

 

“Nope.” All this crap was getting carted back to Andrews’ estate and dumped back on his land. All I needed was a moment's peace from the guards and all these damn visitors and I could get the hell out of here. 

 

The whore wouldn’t shut up.

 

“I service women too.” She eyed my trousers. “For some of that wine I could make you feel so good. Make you forget you're here.” She made some beckoning motions with her fingers that I ignored. The whore retreated and pouted a little while more. “Even the sea bitch herself must like some kind of company,” she tried. 

 

I stayed silent under my hat. 

 

“So, tell me, what tickles the bitch captain’s fancy?” She made her beckoning gesture again.

 

“Information,” I answered. “Got any of that up your skirt?”

 

The whore retreated back to her wall. Most soldiers tend to shut up when they are putting their dicks in paid-for pussy. True enough that men talked more after sex, but this whore didn’t look like she was high class enough to sleep with anyone who had any secrets to spill anyway. She pouted and sobbed in her corner until I threw another shoe at her.

 

“Get your shit together. What the hell is wrong with you?” I took a bite of bread. It was stale now, but I was hungry.

 

“If you hadn’t brought that whore of a lady on your ship, everything would be fine,” she sobbed.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” I muttered.

 

“That dark woman got off your ship and started ruining lives,” she sneered.

 

“Speak more.” I rolled her a bottle. She cocked her head at me and pulled out the cork.

 

And then this whore cracked open from the ass up. She spun me a tale of idiocy I never thought my sister capable of.

 

According to the slattern, Izzy had spent exactly twelve seconds in her room before gallivanting around the island, spending my fortunes on hotels, land, more land, street children, stall food, going to exclusive dinner parties, and getting engaged to the very same lieutenant who had thrown me in this delightful prison cell. Roisin (the baggage told me her name between drinks) was good and drunk now.

 

“You want to know how many married men I see?” she slurred. “They bend me over and damn their vows. So I know he’ll be back. He’ll be back.” She took another pull from the bottle. “He’s in love now. Giving her rings. But I know him. I know how he feels.” She ran her hands over her body. “And he’s solid and strong. And so large—” 

 

I threw another bottle at her (since I was out of shoes) shattering it everywhere. The loud clang brought the guards in and they proceeded to yell and go on about behaving and cleaning up. Roisin and I yelled back threats and insults. Roisin also yelled out a few propositions and demands to see the lieutenant commander. No one managed to gain any ground, and we all retreated, the guards to their stations outside the door, me to my wall, and the whore passed out.

 

My thoughts darkened. Izzy was out of her room. Izzy had spent all of my money. Izzy was sleeping with a ghost...probably many ghosts. Who was I kidding? There was an excellent chance she’d be the next whore thrown in here for public indecency. My blood began to simmer. I’d thought she was safe, sound, and relaxing in her room. If anything, perhaps Gerta might walk her around the town a little to air her out. Izzy’s room must resemble Chernobyl by now.

 

If Roisin were to be believed, though, Izzy was not safe. Izzy was exposed and vulnerable and gallivanting around an island that had proven to be some of the most dangerous territory I’d ever traveled. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that even after she had witnessed how bad things could turn with one wrong move (see Tavern Rock), she would be so brazen as to try her hand at such risky maneuvers as consorting with nobility at a dinner party. I had to get out of here. Roisin was unconscious.

 

There was movement at the door. The guard was watching me again. I wasn’t going anywhere yet.

 

Dammit.

 

Izzy had accepted a proposal. This, I could not understand. Roisin had been very clear on this point, however, as it was the reason she was sharing the fort's hospitality tonight. Roisin had seen the ring and everything. I didn’t even know they did engagement rings in this time. Clearly Izzy was up to something. I would believe in Santa before I believed my club-hopping, pot-smoking, pansexual sister actually agreed to marry and commit herself to a man from the 17th century barely a week after making landfall. No, she was up to something.

 

Her intended was the highest-ranking officer of this fort. Perhaps this was some ill-conceived and misguided attempt to break me out of prison? Could Izzy have warmed to me enough to try and help me escape? Despite myself, I hoped so. If she was trying (however stupidly) to break me out of here, maybe I wasn’t so unforgivable. Maybe there was hope for us.

 

I fell into an uneasy sleep with uneasy dreams.

 

Gold leaked from my boat, and I couldn’t stop it. I’d plug one hole up only to find another. Izzy was there in her bikini, laughing at me as she tossed coins overboard and wrapped jewels in rolling papers and smoked them. I tried to stop her, but she was in her cabin with the young lieutenant, bent over as he drove into her from behind. She panted and moaned as the blue-eyed soldier reached around and toyed with her.

 

“Oh yeah. That’s so good,” Izzy said with Roisin’s voice. “Keep going.” The soldier grunted and moaned.

 

The noises continued, and I floated up out of my dream to see that Roisin was braced against the bars dividing our cell and had her skirts up. One of our young guards was pumping behind her. Roisin’s face was bored, and when she saw me, she waved to get my attention. “Hey, sea bitch. How about some more of that wine?”

 

“No.” I pulled my hat down farther and tried to block out the pitiful sounds of the guard as he came inside the whore.

 

He backed out of her and buttoned up, then handed her a bowl of food.

​

“What?” she said as she rearranged her skirts and began eating. “You were asleep and I was hungry. Your food is good.” She licked her fingers. 

 

Another guard entered and offered Roisin early release if she serviced him. Roisin jumped at the chance. She knelt in front of him and took his dick in her mouth through the bars. The girl was talented, she had him off in no time. The still-quivering guard opened her cell and led her away.

 

I fell back asleep. 

 

Izzy was in my dream again. She was an old married woman dressed in all the trappings and finery of nobility with her children and grandchildren surrounding her. She sat on a mountain of my hard work and wealth and glared at me. 

 

“You promised,” she accused. “You promised to take me home.” Her children glared at me. 

 

I saw myself reflected in the gold and silver she sat on, and I looked exactly the same as I did now. 

 

“I will take you home now.” I told her and reached out my hand.

 

Her son, a blue-eyed soldier with curly dark hair, chopped my hand off. “It’s too late now. I’m not leaving.” She dismissed me. “I have everything I need here. I don’t need you anymore.” 

 

There was a wrenching noise behind me, and I watched as Izzy directed that my ship get torn apart board by board and tossed into a bonfire as the Puritans laughed and cheered. The bonfire blurred into a sunset off the coast of a tropical island where Maui sat on one side of me and Andrews on my other. Both offered me their hands and gestured in different directions, a smoking volcano, a foggy shore.

 

A door slammed. My face was on the dirty brick floor under my filthy coat.