“I know those colors,” muttered Captain Zaureg to his first mate, a stout Englishman with the unlikely name of Bromley. Such a name inspired thoughts of high-born gentlemen, but this Bromley was not. This worthy, ruffled and scarred as any pirate should be, said nothing; dutifully he handed his captain the spyglass.
“Green,” Zaureg muttered. “Just like her eyes.”
Bromley squinted at the distant ship- the Syrène, if he wasn’t mistaking his captain’s remarks- with keen interest.
“She hasn’t been this far north for months,” Bromley said companionably.
“No, and it must mean something,” Zaureg growled. He turned to face Bromley. “Have ‘er brought ‘round,” He ordered.
“We’re going to meet her, sir?”
“I’ve a mind to see what she looks like up close,” Said the captain.
“Tiens, he turns,” Uma LaRoche, so-called Queen of the Atlantic (and occasionally “Daughter of Poseidon” by those quite in their cups), reached for her own spyglass. Yes, those were Zaureg’s colors.
“Bon, we shall have some fun now,” She grinned, showing a row of surprisingly white teeth.
“Je ne comprends-”
“-Paul, use English. All pirates do.” Uma reminded her first mate.
“Mais,” He paused, crestfallen. He tried again: “I don’t understand,” he carefully enunciated, grim-faced, as though English was bitter to his tongue.
“I have a score to settle with Zaureg,” Uma told him. “You remember Ben? He was part of my crew some months ago. Zaureg took him, last time we made berth at Cantsleigh. I intend to have him back.”
“But it was, as you said,” He paused to remember the word, “Inadversent.”
“Inadvertent,” Uma corrected gently. Paul was, after all, only fifteen; the youngest first mate in the piracy business. “And no, I disagree. I thought so at the time, but now I’m not so sure. Ben was too close to me to go without notice. Zaureg knew it, and like many other captains, he wanted to learn a little more of me.” She smiled in genuine amusement. “It baffles me to consider why.”
“Mais, you are so pretty, and the only female captain in the Atlantic.” Paul smiled toothily.
“In the world, mon chou,” Uma corrected again. Paul’s comments caused her nary a blush. She was too much of a pirate for that. What Paul did not know was that Uma was very anxious to retrieve Ben not only because he was a skilled helmsman, but also because he knew her secret- and that must never get out.
Hardly had the crew of the Sirène had time to prepare for the attack and boarding of the Safire than that ship had pulled herself to the side of Uma’s, so close that Uma could see the whites of Zaureg’s eyes. All his men were armed, but Zaureg was too careful to fire unless provoked. Uma stood on the deck of her ship, her black cloak wrapped about her to amplify her slight figure. Her black hair, piled on top of her head in an untidy knot completed the picture. She appeared docile, but a tigress hid behind those green eyes. Zaureg spoke –or shouted, across the sea between them- first.
“Uma LaRoche, will you join me for tea?” He asked, to her faint surprise. Her eyebrows lifted.
“Will I be eating fish, or will fish be eating me?” She asked politely.
“Neither. I have a new barrel of apples I would only share with one so worthy as yourself.”
“I am not tempted.” She played along. “Apples are to be shared among friends, are they not? You, Zaureg, are my enemy.”
“Why is that, O goddess of the sea?” He bowed in deference.
“You’ve taken something of mine, and I mean to have it back.”
“I demand payment, unless you mean to fight.”
“Fight, sir, for what is rightfully mine.”
“You? You are not known for violence, Uma LaRoche. You scarcely merit the name ‘pirate.’ And you will fight me… for him?” He gestured for Ben to be brought into view, held at gunpoint, but visibly unharmed. Uma spared him the barest of glances, keeping her eyes fixed on Zaureg’s. The latter held a vicious gleam in them. But Uma knew who she was dealing with.
“I value his life, Zaureg.”
“He’s alive and well, as you see. But I don’t think his life is as important to you as the continued secrecy of what he knows about you.”
A murmur swept through the crews of both ships. Uma shot a glance at Ben, who met hers with one full of courage. From the looks of things, he hadn’t divulged anything during his captivity.
“So he does know something,” Zaureg mused. “I could have used torture, but now I can use bribery.”
“You’ll get nothing from me, Zaureg, except mercy, when you ask for it.”
Next to her, Paul’s face was flushed with anger. He fingered his sword as if anxious to use it on something or someone.
“Mercy,” Zaureg spat out. “Aye, I’ve heard of your tenderheartedness. That is why I don’t fear your weapons. You would not touch me if I threaten my captive, for you would say no secret is worth a man’s life. Unless, Uma, this one is.”
Ben was hauled to the bow of the ship and perched on the carved wood, inches from the edge. Uma signaled to him and to the men she had strategically placed on the stern. Ben knew this trick; they’d used it in more than one escape.
Suddenly, an explosion rent the air. A cannonball ripped into the side of the Safire, shaking it violently. There was a splash as Ben fell, and Zaureg’s crew opened fire. Uma reached for her gun, glancing wildly about. Paul was gone. Foolish boy! This was not part of her plan.
As both sides exchanged fire, Uma commanded her crew to prepare to board. Paul was suddenly by her side as she ducked behind the stairs to regain her wits.
“Paul, what have you done?” She noticed his face was purple with rage.
“He’ll not insult you like that, Captain!”
“Paul, he’s a pirate!”
No more could be said; a cannonball ripped through the mast, splintering the wood but not exploding. It whizzed past and landed in the ocean where Uma feared Ben was now trapped. The ships were now near enough for boarding. Uma’s crew fought as they always did, and the battle was long and hard. But Uma never hired anyone that had not proven himself, and once again, her crew fought with a loyalty only those sailing under her flag could know. To do justice to Zaureg’s crew, they fought harder than any other Uma had encountered. But that did nothing to her usual methods of putting a handful of Zaureg’s men in a lifeboat and the rest tied below deck. By the time those in the lifeboat had reached their tied-up comrades, Uma’s ship was out of range with as little death to either side as possible.
But the victory was forgotten when Paul was found lying on the deck, a bullet through his neck. Uma shed genuine tears, and even when Ben, sopping wet but unharmed, was pulled from the sea, her grief was not lessened.
“All this trouble over me, Uma LaRoche?” Ben said, kneeling beside her. “What happened to the other plan? It would have been quick and easy.”
“The foolhardiness of youth,” She said bitterly. “Sometimes I wonder why I became a pirate.”
“You know well why, and so do I,” Ben said. Both fell silent at the mention of her secret. But the crew was too busy repairing damages, treating wounds, and sailing the ship to hear.
“I would have died for your secret, you know.” Ben said quietly. Uma glanced at Paul, lying motionless- dead, because of the same loyalty.
“I know, Ben. But no secret is worth a man’s life.”
postscript
Here, my friends, is the first story I ever wrote of Uma. I thought I'd upload it too, since what happens in it is vaguely important to know when you read the actual long story I'm posting in chapters. Yeah. This one kinda stinks. I was gonna use it for a short story assignment (I used Domo Arigato instead). I decided not to because, as some pointed out, it's not so much a short story as a section of a long one. This assignment had a page limit, so that's why the ending's all rushed and lame. But I thought I'd post it anyway since it's, well, Uma.