Valentina Cortez stood in the harbour of New Pineacre, Americae with a straight back, a determined air, and a note of credit from The Bloodmoon Enclave in her pocket. The Enclave was the overseeing pirate authority council, who distributed jobs among the pirate crews on their books, and took a hefty cut of whatever reward was given. The Enclave were the big boss – and Val now owed them a debt of fifty thousand gold coin that she didn’t even want to think about repaying.
When she’d approached The Enclave headquarters in Caribo with her application for credit, she’d assumed she would be laughed off and sent along her way. Who was she, anyway? A broken Hispanian woman with nothing but the clothes on her back and a bag full of stolen possessions? How could she possibly repay what she asked to borrow? Some may call it a Divine miracle that they granted her request. Val called it what it was – a loan. One that came with a weighty interest rate and a brand-new cage to live in. She was a member of The Enclave now, and would report to them for the foreseeable future. Probably forever.
In spite of all this, Val had almost wept when they handed her the credit note. She knew it was not just a piece of paper. To Val, that note was a promise of a better future – a free future – and a chance to build a new life beyond the disaster she had lived so far. She would repay it in time. She had a plan. For now, in the port of New Pineacre, the first step in that plan had begun. Val needed to buy a ship.
Taking a deep breath, Val took one step. Then another. Steps away from the passenger vessel that had bourn her here. Away from the past that haunted her nights. Away from the heartache that she would need to bury as deep as possible in order to keep going. Away from him.
The small harbour was bustling with morning activity. All around her sounded the shouts of early port workers setting about their day, preparing their boats for wherever they would sail. Large schooners sat beside smaller fishing vessels, bobbing on their tethers to the dock. The air smelled of fish and seaweed, and a light warm breeze carried the promise of a pleasant day ahead. Beside her on the path, a seagull pecked at a half-eaten sandwich, making quick and busy work of his stolen breakfast. Scanning the busy waterfront, she noticed a large woman – larger than Val had ever seen, both in height and stature – heaving boxes of thick rope onto a nearby dock like they were caskets of feathers, passing them off to men whose back’s stooped at their weight.
“Excuse me,” she approached the woman, “could you please tell me where I can find the harbour master?”
Squinting in the morning sun, the woman straightened to her full height, which was at least two feet taller than the top of Val’s head, and looked down at her. Her clothes were practical, and her hair was buzzed close to her head. This was a woman who wanted nothing to get in the way of a job at hand, and Val respected that.
Rubbing her hands together as though to ease her fingers, the stranger nodded and silently pointed towards a row of streets lining the harbour. Using a hand to shield her eyes from the glare on the water, Val studied the buildings until she spotted one with a ship design painted onto the window, a blue sign swinging above the door.
“Thank you,” she said, turning back to the woman, who simply nodded again and turned back to her work.
Val left the shoreline and headed towards the dark-brick building that was squished between a cosy-looking café called The Coral Cup, and a small shop selling fresh mussels. The sign above the door read ‘New Pineacre Harbour Dealings’, and as she pushed open the door, a little bell jingled in its holding above. Closing it gently behind her, Val took a moment to peruse the noticeboards lining both walls. Scrolls and papers advertised work on both the dock and the ships in it. Posters marketed various wares, from rope and Coal, to wet-clothes and dried meat. She looked at them all, but none of them offered what she needed.
“That’s a farce, that is!” Val’s attention was drawn away from the wall and towards the counter of the office, where one man stood arguing with another. “You can’t just raise the prices without telling anyone!” The shouting man in question was short, but held himself as upright as possible, pointing his finger into the other man’s face, which in turn was reddening by the second.
“That’s your problem right there, Marv!” The man behind the counter – who Val presumed to be the harbour master – shouted back. His bald head shone beneath the harsh Coal light above, and his moustache puffed out on the ends whenever he spoke. “We did tell you. We told you a grand total of . . . how many times, Brynn?”
He turned to a thin red-haired girl in a brown leather apron who had, until being called upon, been stood with her back to the situation, hunched over a table of metal scraps and papers. At hearing her name, she spun around. “Four times,” she offered, before turning back to the table once more.
“That’s right,” the harbour master stood up straighter and tugged at his lapels. “Four times, Marv. Four chances you’ve had to settle the difference. You can read, can’t you?”
“Course I can read! I’m not a simpleton! How dare –”
“Good. Then read this.” The harbour master slammed a piece of paper onto the counter and slid it over to the man known as Marv, who made no move to view it. “Eviction notice. Your vessel must be removed from the New Pineacre docks by the end of the week. Unless, of course, you want to pay the docking fee increase now?”
Marv took a step back. “You can’t just evict me! That boat is my livelihood! Where else will I put her?”
“Not my problem, Marv. Not my problem,” the harbour master began sorting papers on the counter into piles. “Now, if we’re done here –”
“Like heck we’re done here!” fumed Marv. “This ain’t right! You can’t do this! I’ve got a family to feed!” At that, his shoulders slumped and, as if sensing the change in him, the girl behind the counter turned again.
“Perhaps we could suspend the fee for a while longer? As a final notice?” she addressed the harbour master quietly. “To give Marv maybe, one more week to get the money together?” she glanced at Marv, who clutched his eviction notice in both hands and nodded eagerly.
The atmosphere in the room sizzled as the harbour master turned to the girl, fury building behind his eyes. She shrunk back a few steps, and Val found herself on pins, ready to leap in should she need to.
Instead, the harbour master let out a long breath, his moustache quivering with the output, and turned back to Marv. “Fine, as my daughter says, you have one more week. But one week only, Marv, you hear me! Then you’re gone if you can’t pay!”
Marv smiled, showcasing a mouth with more than a few gold teeth. “That’s more than fair. Thank you.” He directed his remark over the shoulder of the harbour master to the girl stood behind him. “You’ll have your money by the end of the week.” Then he turned and scurried out of the shop, tipping his non-existent hat to Val as he noticed her on the way out. She nodded at him briefly in return.
“What have I told you about undermining me in front of the men?” the harbour master seethed at the girl behind the counter, either not noticing that Val was there, or choosing not to care. So often men saw women as shadows, only bringing them to the light of their minds when it suited their needs.
“I’m sorry,” the girl flinched as he turned on her, shrinking back towards the table she was working on. “I just thought –”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it,” the man towered over her, “I don’t pay you to think!” He turned towards a small door on the right as if to leave.
“You don’t actually pay me anything,” the girl muttered.
“What was that?” He spun back around, rage crawling up his face in a spreading cloud of red. Val tensed.
“Nothing, father,” the girl looked down at her shoes.
“That’s what I thought.” With that he left through the door, and Val could hear him shouting all the way down the stairs beyond. “Should’ve thrown you out on the streets with your mother when I had the chance! Still time yet!”
When she was certain he had retreated into whatever pit lay beyond the door, Val approached the counter. The girl behind it had her back to her, her fingers tapping a repeated rhythm on the table as she slowly whispered words that Val could not make out.
“Excuse me,” Val said gently, regrettably pulling the girl from whatever self-soothing activity she was engaging in, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was hoping you could help me?”
The girl turned; eyes wide as she surveyed Val. She clearly hadn’t noticed her before. Wiping at her eyes and smoothing down her apron, she stepped closer to the counter, stealing a quick glance at the open doorway the harbour master had exited through.
“Yes?” she moved to close the door to the stairs.
“I’m looking to buy a boat. A ship, if possible. And I heard that New Pineacre is the place to do that around here?”
“You heard correctly,” the girl nodded, her eyes rimmed with the faint pink of early tears. “This is a ship-trading port. But the man who deals with that isn’t working today.”
Val’s shoulders sunk.
“His name is Christian Harris, and he works a second job at The Copper Dog. It’s a tavern further inland. You can get bed and breakfast there too, if you need it.”
Val smiled at the girl. “Thank you.”
“Christian will help you,” she said in reply. “Christian is a nice man. A nice man.” She pushed up her glasses, and fiddled with her fingers, glancing nervously at the door to the stairs, her freckled face and troubled actions so wrought with anxiety that it hurt Val’s heart. She knew what it felt like to live in terror of a man’s next approach.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Brynn. Brynn Parker.”
Val extended a hand over the counter, “I’m Valentina Cortez.” She hadn’t intended to give her real name, hadn’t been sure if she would be continuing to use it, but found herself offering it to this girl freely. In reply, the girl stepped back, clutching her hands to her chest and shaking her head.
“I’m sorry . . . I don’t . . . not without my gloves,” she looked at Val’s hand.
“Of course,” Val removed her offer of a handshake, leaving a warm smile in its place. “Don’t you worry.”
A crash and a shout sounded from down below and Brynn flinched, her fingers tapping out another rhythm on her apron. She made to pick up the stray papers on the desk, shuffling them into a neat pile. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, thank you. You’ve been more than helpful, Brynn. I shall try The Copper Dog for this Christian you speak of. All the best.”
Val turned to leave, wanting to say more to the girl but finding no words of solace to leave in her departure. Words could be cruel and hollow things, she had learned, and she intended to only ever make hers count for something. The bell tinkled again over the door as she found herself back on the street, and she closed it softly behind her, as her heart ached for the girl left inside.
***
“Yeah, I know of a ship for you, needs some work doing on her, mind. She ain’t in the best shape she’s ever been in, poor girl.”
The man that Brynn had recommended – Christian Harris – had turned out to be every bit of ‘nice man’ that the girl had claimed. He was a thick-set man with a ruddy complexion and an impressive growth of beard. With deep, kind eyes, Christian exuded a comforting sincereness that Val had instantly warmed to.
On hearing that Val was new to town, he had immediately offered her a room and board at The Copper Dog for the evening for a very reasonable price, and she had already sampled some more of his hospitality in the form of a delicious meat pie and gravy dinner that she had enjoyed in her room earlier. Afterwards, she had headed down to the tap room and begun the discussion of acquiring herself a boat.
“I don’t mind a bit of hard work. She will make it out of port, though? She sails?” Val asked, leaning her elbows on the polished bar as Christian dried glass tankards on his apron.
“Oh yeah, she’ll get out. But she’ll need some care and affection before long. The sooner the better, if you can. Want one?” he held up a glass to Val.
“Red wine, if you have it?” she replied, and Christian busied himself with finding a bottle. “You’re okay to take credit? For the ship?”
“Sure am,” he nodded, uncorking a thick glass bottle and pouring dark red wine into Val’s awaiting glass. “The Enclave follows through fine with credit, and I’ve done more than enough business with pirates to know that more than most of you are good for your word.”
Val took a long sip from her glass, letting the wine warm her throat as it slid down. “Thank you,” she said. In the corner of the room, a man in a straw hat was perched on a stool beside a roaring fireplace, playing a jaunty tune on the accordion as the people of New Pineacre took their food and drink in merriment around him. While the warmth of The Copper Dog made her smile, it was full of a lightness she wasn’t sure she would ever feel again, and she envied the faces at the tables around her.
In the corner of the room sat Brynn and her father. She was squashed into a quiet booth, quietly sipping from a mug of steaming black liquid, and seemingly doing her best to disassociate from the increasingly drunk man beside her. The harbour master himself had been steadily sinking into inebriation, becoming louder and more lairy with every glass he emptied. Every now and again, he turned to Brynn, appearing to scold her for something before turning back to the crowd of drunkards on the tables beside him.
More than once, Val caught the girl’s eye, and the darkness she saw there desolated her. Behind the mask of Brynn’s stoic face, was a hopelessness and bleakness that Val knew well. Eventually, the harbour master seemed to have had enough, and he half-walked, half-stumbled out of the doors of The Copper Dog, practically dragging his scurrying daughter behind him. Taking her own leave, Val downed the last of the wine in her glass and made her way to bed, leaving the folk of the tavern singing their triumphs and sorrows into the night.
***
At dawn the next day, Val met Christian on the dock beside a ship that would soon be hers. She was a big vessel, with two cabins on the top deck, and what looked like at least two decks beneath. The sails were currently wrapped around and tied to the masts, and the wood groaned lightly in the morning silence.
“The deck needs new boards,” Christian said, reading from a piece of parchment. “Some of the sails need patching – or you can just get new ones if you’d fancy. And she’ll need a crew.”
“I’m working on that,” Val said, as a seagull landed on the rail of the ship and glared down at her, as if inspecting her to see if she came up worthy. “Will she sail today?”
“If you can get Coal,” Christian replied. “The engine works fine, but you’ll need to fill her up before you go. You’ll want to see Gwen Wolffe for that,” he pointed with a pencil over to a large black building sitting upwind from the dock, “at the Blacksmith’s.”
“I’ll go now,” Val said, making her way up to the dark building and hoping it was open at this early hour. Thankfully, the door opened when she pushed it, and she found herself inside a dark room that looked more like a workshop than a retail business. The floor was made entirely of stone, and stacks of boxes and crates lined the walls on rows of sturdy wooden shelves. A warm glow, and the sound of metal hitting metal came through a door at the back of the room. The forge, Val guessed.
As Val approached the counter on one side of the room, the large woman from the docks the day before appeared from the glowing back room. She was carrying a huge barrel on her shoulder, which she placed down gently upon noticing Val. Dusting her hands off and wiping them on her leather apron, the woman made her way around to the other side of the counter.
“Are you Gwen Wolffe?” Val asked.
The woman nodded in response. Although she did not talk – by choice or not, Val did not know – her demeanor wasn’t surly. The woman’s face was genial and earnest, and though she towered over Val, she made no intention of intimidating her. There was a softness around her eyes, and a pinkness to her cheeks, that instead put Val at ease.
“My name is Valentina Cortez. I just purchased a ship, and I’ve been told you’re the person to speak to for Coal? I need to leave the harbour today, and she needs filling up. How much to get started?”
Gwen pointed to a blackboard behind the counter that listed all of the prices and quantities of the various types of Coal for sale. Taking some gold from her coin purse, Val placed an order for a crate full of industrial Coal.
“Do you staff anyone to fill up the engine?” she asked hopefully, knowing the job would be a difficult one for Val on her own. Gwen patted her own chest, and Val smiled in understanding.
“I don’t suppose you know of anyone round here wishing to join a new pirate crew too, do you?” she laughed, signing the Coal order paper and sliding it back to Gwen, who didn’t take it from her. Val looked up in confusion, to find that Gwen was patting her chest again.
“You?” Val said in disbelief, unwilling to believe she had struck such gold so quickly. “You want to join my crew?” Gwen nodded, no trace of sarcasm or trickery in her expression. She patted her chest again in insistence. Val sighed.
“Look, I’ll be honest with you – I don’t know where I’m going,” she admitted, “and I’m already in debt to The Enclave that I’ll need to start working off immediately – but if you fancy taking to the seas with me and seeing where the wind takes us, I could really use the help. And in time, maybe, a friend?” Gwen smiled, the action warming her face, and took the paper from Val, holding out her hand. Val smiled back and shook it. Then Gwen nodded, let go, and started for the back room again.
“It’s the boat on the end. Owned by Christian Harris, do you know him?” Val shouted into the back. Gwen gave a thumbs-up. “Great. If you could take the Coal down to him and get started, I’ll let him know you’re joining me. Do you need any help?”
Gwen laughed and shook her head, heaving a huge shovel full of Coal into a barrel to demonstrate her point. Of course she didn’t need help, this woman could probably lift the ship itself and carry it over the border. Val suspected some form of wytch strength, but those questions could wait until later. A woman deserved her privacy, and there was plenty of time to get to know one another now that they were crew mates.
“I’ll meet you there,” Val said to Gwen, “I just have something else to do.” A new thought suddenly sparked in her mind, crazy and dangerous enough that it just might work.
***
The bell of ‘New Pineacre Harbour Dealings’ jangled as Val entered once more, holding hope in her heart that she would find the right person behind the counter. Some kind fate must have been shining down on her this day, because Brynn was there and, more importantly, her father was not. Val shut the door behind her and approached the counter quickly, making the girl jump as she spoke.
“Forgive my bluntness, Brynn, but I’m going to cut straight to the meat of the matter here as I don’t have much time.”
“Okay,” Brynn’s eyes narrowed nervously, and she pushed her glasses up her nose.
“Where is your father?”
“He left town this morning to deal with business in Oakenmoor. He won’t be back until tomorrow,” Brynn replied.
“Perfect,” Val said quietly, thanking again whatever fortune favoured her today. “Now listen, Brynn. You don’t have to tell me your story. Not now. Not ever, if you don’t want to. But I know what it’s like to stay in a dangerous situation because you love someone, or because you feel there is no way out. And I know what it can cost you if you don’t leave.” Val’s hand clutched the strip of white lace in her pocket, one of the only scraps of her previous life she kept with her when she ran, and the most precious thing she owned.
“I’m offering you a way out. I have a ship in the harbour. Not much of a crew yet, granted – but we’re leaving today, and there’s a place on board for you if you want it.”
Brynn rubbed her hands on her apron. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . . he needs me.” She spoke the final part of the sentence at a pleading whisper.
Val leaned on the counter. “What about what you need?” Brynn looked down at the floor and Val stepped back. “I’m not forcing you to come, if you become part of my crew, you’ll never be forced to do anything again that you don’t want to do. Your voice will matter. I would value you. But if you’d rather stay here, I will make my apologies for my forwardness and bid you good day.” She turned to leave, hoping her words had taken root somewhere in the quiet girl. Hoping she could see the life Val was offering, but knowing that it also was not an easy one.
“I can navigate,” Brynn’s quiet voice cut through the silence, and Val turned with a smile. “I sail with my father. Big vessels and small. I can chart courses, and I know how to steer.” She spoke all of this with a certainness that was far from bragging, and Val took it as an acceptance of her offer.
“You’re sure?” she said, making her way back to the counter. “This life isn’t for everyone.”
“It’s better than the life I lead here,” she rubbed at the bruises circling her wrists, and Val wondered how many more lay beneath her clothes. “I want to come with you.”
“Then welcome aboard, Brynn Parker. I am honoured to have you.”
Brynn smiled. Just a small thing, that left her face quicker than it appeared, but it lit up her eyes for the briefest of seconds while it was there, and warmed Val’s heart with it. In that moment, she made a promise to herself. Her ship would only ever be crewed by women. Women and girls who needed sanctuary and space to heal. She would find them, and she would offer them a peace they may never have received before. She would help them find the light in their eyes again.
“Finish whatever you need to do here, pack whatever you want to take, and meet me on the dock,” Val said as she pulled open the door for the last time. Brynn nodded as she untied her apron, and Val left her there to gather herself.
As she walked back down the harbour towards her ship, she noticed a small vendor selling clothes items, just setting up for the day along the edge of the harbour with the other market traders. He was a little man, and his stall was full of hanging hats, draped coats, and boxes of boots. Val took a black hat from a hook, turning it over in her hands. It was sturdy, well-made, and looked like it would fit.
“How much for this?” she asked.
“Eight gold,” the man croaked in reply, unpacking some simple shirts from a crate, “but I can do it you for seven.”
“Take ten,” Val said, tossing him a large gold coin that he caught with surprisingly deft hands.
“Well thank you, lady,” he said in surprise, eyeing the gold in his hand, “thank you very much.” She smiled in reply and bid the man a good day, before continuing her walk.
When she reached the ship, Christian was waiting. “Gwen’s on board, she’s already loaded the Coal and she’s making a list of repairs that need doing. Taking her with you, are you?”
“Yes, and one other,” Val said. “Are we all ready to go?”
“Just the matter of payment left, if you’re happy?” Christian replied.
“I am,” Val said, pulling the Enclave’s note of credit from her bag and handing it to him. After a moment looking it over, Christian nodded and folded it up, placing it into his pocket.
“All good then. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Cortez – or should I say Captain Cortez now.” He grinned at her and she smiled back in earnest. “Just one more thing,” he said, as she approached the ship. Her ship. “What are you gonna call her? Every good ship needs a name.”
Val paused. Taking the scrap of lace from her coat pocket, she wound it around the band of her new hat, using her knee for balance as she tied it in place. Finishing the job, she inspected the hat before placing it firmly atop her head. It felt right there. It felt like hers.
“The Esperanza,” she said, “Her name is The Esperanza.”
And with that, she strode up the gangplank and onto the deck of the ship, the morning sun warming her face as the gulls cawed above. Taking a deep breath, she stared out at the ocean, wondering what new life it held for her. Whatever it was, she had better get going soon.
She had work to do.
