NaNoWriMo 2007 Sixteenth Chapter

Fresh Water Pirates- Chapter 16- SO unedited!

Sheila's red fiery hair took the morning sun like a dare.  While all the other pirates were still snoring below the decks in the forecastle, Sheila found her heart jumping out of her chest and the thrill of a new day all too overwhelming.  The seagulls and cormorants were fishing the grey blue morning waters with squawking success.  The Rotten Rose obediently headed north, taking on one wave and at a time, rocking Sheila's anxious limbs.  Her blood rushed through her veins in hot electrifying gushes. Her arms flexed at the anticipation to hold and maneuver a sword.  Her feet shuffled across the deck, as if she knew how to fence, but they were lost.  She knew she was too elated, too girlish to feel like a true pirate that morning.  She had to ground herself, find the weight in her buxom body, learn how to control her feminine impulses, her blushing enthusiasm.

She took five deep long breaths, trying to calm down, relax, get deep.  After her fifth breath she only felt like screaming, laughing, whooping for joy.  She wanted to celebrate her freedom.  She felt the flutter in her chest, her tingling scalp, and her wriggling toes.  It was al she could do to keep quiet while the others slept.  If she knew how, she would be performing back flips up and down the deck, she would find a tambourine and rattle it like a rattlesnake, she would breathe fire.  If only she could express her giddiness without the pirates finding her weak and dangerously female.  She had to lower her voice, grit her teeth, roll up her sleeves, and stomp around like an ape.  

Looking around to be certain she was alone, Sheila found the confidence to practice her new masculine, tough guy strut.  At first she felt stompy and gruff, until she realized her breasts were prominently displayed like a Fourth of July float, and her round jiggly buttocks were bouncing like those punching balloons the kids would play with.  

She took a deep breath and tried again.  Heal first, arms out a little, neck stiff, and face fierce, she was pretty sure she had it.  As she continued along the sun-bleached deck of the Rotten Rose, she consciously tucked in her buttocks, curled in her shoulders, and rounded her arms.  She felt like a robot.  

Again, she stopped, took a couple deep breaths, blew hair off her sticky face, and tried once more.  How can a pirate wench swagger without rocking the hips like a harlot?  How can a pirate wench look touch without looking like a man in an ape suit?  How on earth can a bartender turn pirate?  At first it seemed logical.  Why not?  Pirates like to drink, a lot, and bartenders know quite well how to serve and hold liquor.  Pirates have a great disdain for most people, as most people resemble the very life they protest.  Bartenders are usually the scum of the earth, according to the people the pirates hate, so the relationship and belief system seems complimentary.  Pirates steal, bartenders know the more drunk their clients get, the more ridiculously huge their tips.  Pirates kill people, liquor kills people.  OK, Sheila was stretching it a bit.  Now back to the question- how on earth can a bartender turn pirate?  A female pirate?

One more try at this masculine pirate walk, Sheila thinks to herself.  This time she tries to hang loose, drop her shoulders, hunch forward a little bit, loosen her jaw, allow her legs to flop and her neck to sink.  She took a few steps and felt like an ape on Quaaludes.  Just as Sheila began to shake herself out of that character, fling off the stupidity, Black Jenny arrived up on the deck.

"Ahoy, thar lass!  Whatcha be doin' thar," Jenny spoke from the back of her throat with ease, growling like she had hair on her chest, and whiskers on her chin.  Sheila felt her throat tighten and sting, and silly tears well up in the corners of her eyes.  The last telltale sign of complete weakness in a female, the crinkled pink, quivering chin and the downturned corners of the mouth while the lips puff up and turn red.

‘Shit!" cried Sheila.  "I'll never be a frickin' pirate!  Just look at me!  I'm a total woman, I'm a teary-eyed red head with the hormones of a prom queen.  I thought I was tough.  I thought I could really hold my own.  I didn't think turning pirate would be so hard, so different from what I already dealt with.  Its frickin' hard being a bartender and dealing with all those drunk slobbery men!  They are so piggish and sloppy.  It takes bravery and strength to push those lugs around, boss them a bit, take away their keys, cu them off, handle the fist fights."  Sheila pumped her arms at her sides as she spoke, tears gushing from her green eyes, and her lips trembling and wet with anger and embarrassment.

"Why ye be cryin', Sheila?" Black Jenny asked, realizing the gruffness she learned as default in her tone.

Sheila threw her arms up in the air.  Her face flushed and her lips swelled into a childish pout.  "I don't know!" she wailed and started to sob.  Her shoulders bobbed up and down, and clear snot ran from her nose.  Black Jenny looked at her like she discovered an alien.

Black Jenny looked at Sheila like she had discovered an alien.
Sheila crouched down to the deck, folded her knees in close to her chest, and started to rock herself back and forth.  While she rocked she tried to quiet herself, but her chest kept trying to pump out more sobbing.  She rocked and shushed herself, sniveled and coughed a little, hiding her green eyes with wet streaks of red hair.  Her crying quieted down to the point where she dried up, and looked out towards the water, out to the bow of the ship, with that eerie look of resignation.
Black Jenny recognized a bit of Sheila's grief, fear, and loss, though she felt it were no comparison to that painful day she lost her baby.  That was one dreaded day he had to reveal the sadness of a woman in front of her captain.  That day Jenny was hardly a pirate, but a regular land-living woman who became burdened with child, and then punished as the baby was taken away to the otherworld.  Her child never had the chance to live on land or at sea.  Her child took the path straight to a world Jenny had never travelled, never paid any attention to, never wanted to go.
Finding herself staring out into the water as well, Black Jenny took advantage of her softened state to crouch down near Sheila and out her arm around her.  "Sheila," she said in her calm low voice, "Now that you cried the woman outta ye, lets you and me be lookin' to take on some swords, shall we?"
Sheila's reddened green eyes looked up and scared Black Jenny a little bit. she looked like a viking on mushrooms, crazed and mad, with nothing but kill on her mind.  The smile that followed only convinced Black jenny that this woman had the mysterious power of an old soul living inside her voluptuous body, and that spirit was only just now deciding to show itself.  Such souls one needs to be very careful with, and learn to stay on the ood side at all times.  No use learning about the consequences for getting on the wrong side, not with a crazy old viking spirit.
With that the two women helped each other off their bottoms and up to their confident fierce pirate wench stance.  This time, Sheila needed no practice, she found her own natural pirate walk and composure.  As she started to swing that heavy sword around, her pirate voice arrived with no strain.  Within an hour of swordplay, the men stumbling awake from below the decks were surprised, and quite pleased, with the display of the two sturdy women engaged in a mock sword fight.  The women had eyes that glowed like enchanted jewels, like they could cast spells with just one flashy look.  the veins popped from sheila's neck, and her chest radiated with a red heat.  Her lips snarled, her teeth gnashed, and her hair flew wildly.  the men stared at her like she was a mythical creature.  

"Wow, those two women look more pirate than I do," one khaki man gasped, wiping the morning dew off his face with a handkerchief.
"Look at them go with those swords!"
"They would be great in that musical."
"I didn't think women were allowed to be pirates?"
"Do you think Sheila used to work at Bush Gardens or something like that?"
"Her arms are as big as my thighs!"
"They could make good money performing like that."
"How on earth can she swing that heavy sword around like that?  My shoulders and forearms are still throbbing from all that practice yesterday."
"Wow, they must work out."
Raven listened to these Gap guys and shook his head.  "That thar looks mighty dangerous t' me, ye rotten swags.  No man be wantin' to stand ‘round any woman possessed by the devil, fer she-devils ‘er th' werst!"
The men looked at Raven, and then stared at the dueling women with more fantasy and wonder as before.  
"How d' ye, mean, Raven Red Tooth?" a bulky beer gut man asked, with a baby-face all wrinkled with question.
Raven climbed up a rope to stand above the others and herubbed his red tooth before speaking.  His black hair matted into thick uneven dreads stuck out in different directions  Some braids hung long and low, some dreads stood out like soft spikes from his dark greasy skull.  the deep crevices in his face exaggerated his every expression and he worked in that morning.
"Ye be careful, ye scurvy dogs  Ye be steppin' in th wrong place, or ye be crossin' th she-devil's path, an' next ye be turned to a yellow ferret or snatching flies wi' a frog's tongue.  Ye try to fight a she-devil, an' ye be wearing yer guts ‘round yer neck like a scarf.  They know the evil ways, ye bilge rats, and hell if i be lettin' yer stupidity bring bad fortune on this ship.  So ye be steppin' light and mindful of their lunar ways, ye hear me?  ye stay clear o them she-devils or we be eatin our way from the bottom o this lake to the underworld."
"Wow," some gasped and continued to watch the women like they were watching a movie take.
Others scratched their chins and pondered this new phenomenon.
"What did he say? I couldn't understand a single word?" one guy whispered to the baby-faced big guy.
"God, she looks like Bette Middler on steroids!" a fat guy elbowed the pal to his right and mustered a gutteral chuckle from his short rippled neck.
Raven noticed that still others watched the women for study sake.  They watched the women shuffle back and forth, their footwork with each plunge and dive.  Forward and back, forward and back.  They watched the women's arms, how their muscles hid under the fat, how their necks strained with every movement, and the straight strong posture of their wide backs.  Every once and a while, the women fought close to each other, and the men wondered if their breasts were going to touch.  If they did, what would happen?  Would they kiss?  Would they slap each other?  Would they press into each other further?  The possibilities were endless and entertaining the now awake dirty minds of these loafer wearing men.
Captain Charles, Barley Bob, Dog Face Dale, and Seymour all climbed to the deck, one after the other, with curiosity painted across their faces.  Seymour's goldfish eyes bulged out, competing against his adam's apple.  Dog Face Dale's eyes grew and twinkled with delight.  his wide-toothed smile spread across his thick face and his ears seemed to stick out and flutter.  Barley Bob rubbed his chin, and ran his fingers down the braids in his scraggly beard to twist some of the beads.  His eyebrows scrunched down over his blue eyes while he registered the situation.  Captain Charles looked on to the women with pride. They looked good, they looked skilled, they looked ready for battle already.  He looked to the crowd of men, keeping their distance from the women, in complete awe.  Raven took to the Crow's Nest.
"Well, what ye be waitin' far?  Get ye yellow bellies int' practice like th' pirate wenches oer har!  Arrrrrrrrr!"  Captain Charles liked feeling menacing and powerful again. the way these wimpy men scrambled and hurried with fear to his every growling word made him feel truly Captain again, and oh how it filled his chest with pride.  He then noticed The Others behind him were not moving.
"Aaaarrrrrrrrr!  ye deaf, ye stinkin' swags!  Get ye boney buttocks out thar and practice yer swords wi' th' others!  I want t' see these men lookin' like pirates by sundown!"

Soon pairs of men were getting suited up with sword sheaths and head scarves.  Then these pairs of men stood like live chess players before each other, poised and scared stiff.  Who should start?  How would they not hurt each other while practicing?  these questions kept themselves at a safe distance from each other while they carefully tapped swords at the tips.  Captain Charles watched with disgust.  Barley bob, Dog Face Dale, and Raven Red Tooth tried to walk around guiding the pairs.
"Nay, ye be dancin' like a pair o' fairies, ye yeller bilge rats!"
"Lunge, ye swags!  Lunge!"
"Go fer th' harrrrt!  Arrrr!  An' ye be growlin' now.  Aarrrrrrrrr!"
"Up an' out!  Up an' out!  Ye filthy rotten scrappy dog!  Fer Gods sake, lunge!"
"Who ye fightin' lass, a paper princess?  Grow yerself some cannons lad, an' fight like ye got nuthin' ter lose!"
"...an' ye sound like a wailing wench, ye yellers!  Ge yer gut inter it!  Arrrrrrrr!"
"Ye be wantin t' stay on th' Rotten Rose, ye gotta fight fer ‘er!  Cut thar throat out!  Pop that thar eye out if ye dare!  An you, ye pansy foot, don't ye be lettin' ‘im carve ye t' pieces.  Ye be needin' t' t' keep yer eye on th' blade be swift about it!"
"Where in Mercede's Hell did ye mammy be rearin' ye, scurvy dog?  Ye be steppin' an squawkin' like a chicken!  Show yer teeth, ye scally wag, an' grow som furrrrrr!"
"So he be cuttin' ye a bit in ye shoulder, ‘tis a scratch ye nursin' nilly goat!  Ye be gettin' yer scrawny legs back in thar an' sow that scurvy dog whose a pirate, Arrrr!"
In the meantime, Black Jenny and Sheila stopped their sword work to watch the men attempt the same.  Sheila wiped the sweat off her brow with her blouse and noticed her entire outfit was soaked to a most revealing display.  She quickly turned to face Black Jenny and block her from the men's view.  
"Jenny?  You have a vest I can wear?" Sheila asked through panting breath.
Black Jenny saw instantly Sheila's reason for the request.  "Aye!  But ye be askin' like a land lubber.  If ye be askin' me like a pirate, ye be gettin yer vest."  Black jenny winked at Sheila and nudged her with her big round shoulder.
"Arrr! Yea, Black Jenny, ye scurvy dog, ye be havin' a vest fer me milkin' melons, o ye be havin' yer head, ye rotten wench!"  Sheila made fists and rocked her arms back and forth theatrically like she was swinging mugs of beer across her chest as she spoke.
The two women laughed and headed to the stairs to below the deck, but their loud raucous outburst of humor stopped the men from their sword practice.  Naturally, the men were already too sensitive and vulnerable to their lack of sword skill.  the women's laughter snipped the wee string of masculine pride they clung to.
Captain Charles saw this as another weakness of these vain pretty boys whom he started to regret brining aboard.
"What ye be starin' at, ye pale-faced, land lubber wenches!" he hollered in the direction of the men.  "Ye be gettin' t' yer swords o ye be fed t' th' fishes!  Fight!"

With that the pirate wenches slid under the deck to get Sheila proper pirate attire, and Raven Red Tooth swooped down on the men from a rope and barked orders to all of them.
"If I be seein any one o ye yeller bellied baffoons tryin' t' pansy yer way outta fightin like a dog, I be seein' t'it that ye be learnin' from yourrrrrs trrrrulyyyy!"  the sun shining on Raven's red tooth made him look like a dark-skinned gypsy vampire, ready to pounce on the neck of any man he chooses.  the greasy comb-over man peed in his Jos A Banks silk dress pants.

Dog Face stomped around, puffing his freight train chest and growled at all the surburban bred men.  "Get yer swords goin'!  I needs t' be hearin' th' clashing of sword blades!  Lunge, ye yellies!  Lunge!"
"Who ye be fightin' yer mammy dearest!  Arrrrgh!"
Barley Bob started to take a more consultative approach.  One pair at a time, he took the time to try a duel with one of the men, talking through each step, and then switching to duel against the other pair before bringing them back together again.  Raven shook his head and laughed, even though he could see it drastically improved the wimpy men's skills.
Seymour perched himself up on the Crows Nest to clear himself from any sword play.  Not only did he not trust these crew cut clean-shaven men to be handling steal, but he certainly didn't want to be the one teaching them how to serve man his head on a platter, either.  Rather, he took long deep breaths of the morning lake air, and set his bulgy eyes to the horizon.  
He had many years of practice, tuning out the world, and finding the comfort in is own heart beat.  As long as his heart beat, he knew he was still living.  Whether he heard this comforting sound while curled up in a garbage can, or hiding under the bed of a the wealthy obese victims of the city, he knew the simple concept of living was all he really knew.  He worked too hard to keep his heart beating to ignore its rhythm and meaning.  He felt the soles of his bare feet planted and flexed along the wooden base of the Crows Nest, his toe prints nestling into the wood grain.  his breath steadied and resonating inside his head like a personal lullaby to himself, from himself.  He slowly allowed his eyes to zoom out from that fuzzy non-focussed stare into a sharp detailed view of the sparkling gentle lake waters, speckled with vibrant life.  Then there along the horizon, a bluish purple haze solidified into a faint thin shape.

"Avast, Cap'n!  Land ahoy!"

Copyright 2007 Laura Beck Nielsen