“Missed him!” hissed one of the three beautiful women lurking beneath the
boardwalk at Ma Kettle’s Tavern. “He’d have been perfect!”
“Be patient, Mimma,” said Nathalie, her dark curls fanning out on the moondappled
waters. “The night is young and there are plenty more fish in the
sea.”
“But I’m hungry, Nathalie,” implored Mimma.
“We’re all hungry,” said Jacqueline, the third of the party, swimming closer.
Mimma could see the fire blazing in Jacqueline’s eyes, like a beacon in the
darkness. Around her right eye was a black heart-shaped tattoo. The three
women each bore the exact same tattoo. A perfect black heart.
Suddenly, there were shouts from above. The three swimmers froze, listening
intently as a pirate was ejected from the tavern.
“And don’t come back until you’ve learned how to hold your liquor!” cried
Ma Kettle herself. The pirate protested energetically but the calm voice of
Pieces 08, Ma’s Head of Security, told him to return to his ship. Defeated, the
outcast began to make his way along the boardwalk. Judging by the erratic
thuds from above, his footing was none too steady. Down below, the three
women gazed up with interest as the pirate’s swaying feet came into view.
“Dive in, little fishy!” urged Mimma.
The drunken pirate stopped dead in his tracks and, bending over, glanced
down into the waters below. “Is someone there?” he called down.
“Come on, take a closer look,” Mimma called softly.
As the pirate crouched down lower, the inevitable happened. He tumbled
through the gap in the decking and bombed down into the water, surfacing
within the lock of Mimma’s strong arms. The pirate’s expression turned from
surprise to joy as he glimpsed his saviour’s striking features.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” he said, gazing at her black heart tattoo.
“No problem!” she replied, reaching out to his shirt and tearing through it to
give herself better access to his thorax.
“Not too much, blood!” Nathalie cautioned her companion. “Not yet.
Remember the Captain’s orders. Save it for the wine-press.”
“I know,” said Mimma, as her captive’s head lolled numbly to the side. “But
hurry up, Nathalie. The sooner you and Jacqueline take your own harvest, the
sooner we can head back to The Vagabond.”
Nathalie nodded. There were fresh sounds from above. Glancing upwards,
she saw that Jacqueline had scaled one of the ropes and hung there, four
metres above them, level with the boardwalk itself. Nathalie smiled at
Jacqueline’s boldness and athleticism.
A moment later, a pirate on his way into the tavern took a wrong turn.
Jacqueline didn’t miss a beat. The instant the pirate’s boots came within her
range, she reached out and clasped his ankle. While she still had the
advantage of surprise, she tugged on the man’s leg and unbalanced him. They
shot down together to the waters below. When they surfaced, the pirate’s eyes
were glassy and Jacqueline was exhilarated at her victory. “Two down,” she
cried. “Just you to go, Nat.”
Nathalie nodded, swimming away from her friends, monitoring the slivers of
moonlight, which broke through the gaps between the wooden planks above.
Her ears were as alert as her eyes. She tuned into the voices of two men
above, as they crossed over the threshold of the tavern.
“Come on, Connor Tempest,” Molucco Wrathe’s voice boomed into the night.
“Yes, Captain,” came the younger man’s reply. Nathalie noticed a strange
edge to his voice.
Following the sounds precisely, she swam swiftly into position. Above her,
she saw a wavering foot. She knew at once that it belonged to the older man.
A flicker of disappointment ran through her veins. Still, blood was blood.
“Come to me,” Nathalie hissed.
“Did you hear that, Captain?” The younger man spoke again. Now his foot
came into view. Nathalie felt an urgent stab of hunger. She contemplated
following Jacqueline’s example, shinnying up the rope and seizing the prey
for herself.
But she lost her chance. Suddenly, both men’s feet disappeared from view
and she heard the older man shout. “I can’t hear a thing. Let’s go!” Nathalie
cursed her hesitancy as the duo’s footsteps retreated to safety.
“Patience, Nathalie,” soothed Mimma at her side. “Listen!”
Nathalie followed her comrade’s advice and became alert to the drumming of
further footsteps above. It was another pair of pirates, both young this time by
the sound of it.
“Get off me, Moonshine!” cried one.
“What’s up, scaredy-cat? Worried you might slip and fall into the soup?”
answered a thin, reedy voice.
“I’m not scared of you!” retorted the first.
“More fool you!” Moonshine Wrathe cried, reaching out his arms and sending
his companion down into the water. “See ya! Wouldn’t want to be ya!”
“You…” exclaimed his irate mate as he fell, but his curse was left incomplete
as he experienced the shock of the icy water below.
As Moonshine continued on his merry way above, his erstwhile friend and
comrade found himself cradled safe in the arms of a particularly beautiful
young woman.
“What are you?” he asked, staring in wonder. “Some kind of underwater
angel?”
“Something like that,” Nathalie said, winking. As her eye closed, the black
tattoo made a perfect heart.
“Come on,” Jacqueline urged her two comrades. “We’ve got what we came
for. It’s time to return to the ship. Captain Lockwood will be eager to see our
harvest.”