QSFer K.L. Mitchell has a new FF lesbian historical fantasy out: Scallywag!.
A tale of mystery, treasure, magical creatures, secrets, sea monsters, and high adventure. And it’s all true. You have this pirate’s word for it.
Molly McCormick never set out to be a pirate. But when her family tried to marry her off to a wealthy old man to settle their debts, she resolved to strike out on her own. Taking a job aboard a handy ship disguised as a boy, she soon found herself on the other side of the world: the Caribbean. Desperate to keep her identity secret, she fell in with a lot of pirates, a decision that would change her life. From then on, she lived a life of intrigue and adventure. Forbidden islands holding magical relics. Ghost ships with undead crews. Long-forgotten colonies trapped in time. And beneath it all, a secret buried beneath the waves for centuries is about to return…
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Excerpt
“SHIP AHOY!” CAME THE cry from the crow’s nest above. The bells were clanging. “Straight ahead!”
Cheese glared at me but turned to have a look himself. “What is she?” he shouted. “Get eyes on ’er!”
Everyone stood still, waiting as the lookout fixed his looking glass on the approaching ship. There was a tension I had not felt on board before. Captain Sykes and Mate Nevis appeared on deck, the latter visibly worried. Something was clearly wrong. I almost forgot my own troubles.
“She’s a frigate,” the lookout called down. “She’s riding low but moving bloody fast!”
“The flag, man!” called Nevis. “What flag has she?”
“Looks to be Spanish, sir. I’ll…oh.”
There was a dreadful silence. “What?” shouted Nevis. “What do you see?”
“The flag, sir. They be running it down.”
“Blast!” Nevis thumped his fist on the helm. Captain Sykes stepped forward. “Hard a-starboard! Get them sheets up! Lively, now!” The crew dropped whatever they were doing and scrambled for the masts. Cheese glanced at me, then at the still-distant ship. “Later for you,” he snarled and hurried off.
“You too, boy!” Mate Nevis called down to me. “Go up and help with the foremast! If they catch us, we’re for it!”
Pyrates! At last I understood. I staggered to my feet and ran, weak-kneed, to the foremast and began to climb.
Of the chase that followed, there is not much to say. We had hoped to get in front of the wind and outmaneuver the larger ship, but the simple fact was that she ran far too fast. A new flag was waving from the approaching ship, a black one. We got the sails up as quickly as we could and held on as the Cecilia surged ahead. But the larger ship had, no doubt, guessed our stratagem, and was already moving to intercept. It didn’t appear a fast ship, but the speed at which it caught us up was astonishing. It soon became clear that we had no chance.
Captain Sykes stood on the quarterdeck. “Furl sheets,” he cried. “Furl all sheets and fall in!” We scrambled to bind back the sails we had so recently let loose, securing them before hurrying back to the deck. The captain surveyed us with the same firm, unsmiling expression that had accompanied him since that night in the tavern so many weeks ago. “Right. Gentlemen, we are about to be boarded. Some of you have been through this before, some have not. You are to cooperate fully with them. You will offer them no resistance. Let them have what they want, and we shall be on our way. It’s unfortunate, but that is the way of things in these waters. If they decide to leave us dead, well, do what you can to save yourself. Otherwise, I’ll not have any bloodshed on this ship. They’ll be alongside us in a moment, so if you wish to make your peace with G—d, now would be the time.” He turned and strode back into his cabin.
I felt someone nudge me. Rogers, the old cook, bent down and whispered in my ear. “Get below decks, boy. Get yourself hid and don’t come out until you hear the all clear.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I was down in the hold in a trice and scurrying about for a place to hide. The cargo hold was a tangle of crates and barrels. I had to climb over most of it until I found a spot among some barrels. I crouched down in the darkness and strained my ears to listen.
It wasn’t long before I heard shouting above. The aggressive ship must have pulled to. I heard a series of thumps as the pyrate crew boarded us. I was quite sure they must be getting crowded up there. I could just hear Captain Sykes’s voice, calm and level as always. There was another voice, the nature of which puzzled me, as it sounded wrong somehow. Someone shouted a command, and down they came, at least a dozen by the sound of them. They wasted no time but set to hauling up our cargo as quickly as they could. As soon as one box was hauled away, another would be claimed. I later learned that they’d formed a sort of bucket brigade, that being the quickest way to offload a ship. It was clear they’d had a lot of practice.
It occurred to me, rather belatedly, that hiding amongst the cargo was perhaps not the wisest move. In my defense, I would point out that there were precious few alternatives. Our ship was not large, and the number of hiding places was severely limited. The pyrates had finished the crates and were coming for the barrels. I cast about for somewhere better to hide, but there was nowhere else to go. I was cornered behind the last few barrels, squeezed against the hold.
It was only a matter of time. I remember that I prayed, hoping I might be spared. Perhaps they might decide they had got enough, or the rest of our crew might show fight, or—
“Here!” A voice rang out right above me. I glanced up to see a large, bald pyrate with a short beard and golden hoop earrings grinning down at me. “What have we got here, lad? Up ya come! Don’t make Black Jack fetch ye!” That was it. I was caught, and there was no resisting. He must have seen the fear on my face. “Don’t worry, lad! Ol’ Jack won’t harm ye, less’n you give him a reason to. Now up you come.”
Author Bio
K. L. Mitchell was raised all over the South in a series of increasingly tiny towns until she finally joined the Air Force out of a desire for some culture. She’s spent most of her professional life working on computers in one capacity or another and occasionally manages to get them to actually work.
She’s been writing for fun most of her life and for publication since about 2011. She’s written for multiple websites and local publications and, in 2013, was a recurring columnist for the Kansas City Star. She lives with a gray cat named Molly and would like to be an astronaut when she grows up.
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