A Rebel's Work is Never Done

[Oma Larnia]

Moonlight glistens off the calm waters of Runaway bay as the hull of the corsair cuts across the small rise of waves. The moonlight beams down through a lightly clouded sky lending a magical feel to the small village built up by the beach. The tall, tattooed, dark haired woman at the wheel gives the command and all hands worked to furl the sails and drop the anchor. At last she was home. Anna-Maria dismisses the crew and sets off in a row boat for shore. The mountains rise high on the horizon and the eternal flame at the altar of the ancients still sends its beacon of light into the heavens from the peak of the highest mountain. All seems peaceful just as Anna had left it.

Sand hits the bottom of the row boat bringing it to a stop. Anna-Maria bends down and removes her boots. Stepping out onto her beloved beach her toes curl into the sand and she smiles. It has been a couple of weeks since she last smiled. Content that all was well Anna proceeds into her garden. Fireflies flit around the flowers which move softly in the slight breeze coming in off of the ocean. The little hummingbird nest in the palm tree was quiet yet the fire in the pit still sparks. It seems the garden has enjoyed company but now the nearby Rebel Fort is silent. Glancing up the hill to Captain Bedlam’s place, Anna-Maria notes that the lights are out up there as well.

Dropping off her heavy coat onto the day couch in the Garden, Anna-Maria proceeds out of the garden to the beach. A quick check across the bay at the Rebel huts confirmed for her that everyone was either asleep, busy in their huts or on a journey at sea. Clothing drops from her body and lands on the sand. Anna-Maria slips into the water quietly and lowers her head to soak her hair into the warm salty water. The current caresses her, a welcome relief from the stresses of the last few days. Yet one spot begins to sting. Anna-Maria shakes her head as she tries to ignore it but, it cannot be ignored. The S shaped scar still fresh and red from the stitches Doc Giles gave her. Quickly she stands from the water and gathers her clothing. She is sure the Doctor told her not to allow the wound to dry up she must keep it covered with salve. The last thing she wants is a permanent marking!

Quietly Anna-Maria makes her way up to her small hut and places her dirty clothing into a pile on the floor inside the door. The crew has already brought in the chests with recently acquired goods. A smile creeps along her face at the success of the recent trip across the ocean. Anna picks a lovely dress worthy of a township lady and pulls it out of the chest. The dress, drags across the floor as she pads softly across the floor boards of her hut to stand before the mirror. Pausing for a moment Anna assesses the damage from her recent adventures. Bruised ribs, belly, and that damned Scar! Turning around slowly she checks for other injuries. Nothing more seen as she turns back to face the mirror. The dress now lifted and held in front of her she smoothes it down and turns back and forth before the mirror...the preview. After a few more test dresses Anna-Maria finds one to her liking and she wears it. Dressed in a fine gown a township lady would wear to a party, Anna pulls her hair back and then traces her fingers along her cheeks where recent bruises had just finished healing. She sighs as a sense of aloneness creeps in. Thoughts of missed opportunities creep in.

The battle within Anna-Maria is constant, her willpower, and her love of freedom all wreak havoc with that other desire, to just relax, sit down, and enjoy the company of the ones she loves. There are days where she does not sleep and barely eats. There are battles to be fought, prizes to be won and principles to uphold. She will not be played a fool and the pathway to her heart and bed has been so carefully rigged with tests and traps that so far, none have succeeded. “Liars, cheaters, scallywags, cowards, and weakling bastards all of them!” she whispers. After dwelling on this for a few moments Anna-Maria turns away from the mirror to look at the table next to her cot. Piles of scrolls lay there, a few weeks worth from what she can tell. The most current scroll on top reads one thing, “Declaration of War.”

Anna snatches the scroll up quickly to read, “What!!?? The Continentals??!!” she yells out. Suddenly it all comes clear to her. During her most recent layover in Carriacou by Jabberwock she had been standing on the beach wearing not more than a beautiful silk kimono she had traded an entire crate of opium for. She had been drinking a hot toddy and considering the beauty of the stars in the night sky when suddenly she spotted Admiral Voltaire’s schooner flying with the wind straight towards her little island. He veered suddenly, and the next thing she knew she was ducking a cannonball that flew by not more than 20 meters landing with a splash in the waters just by her beach. The declaration scroll is crumpled in her hand as she clenches her fist and looks to the scroll just beneath it. This one is from her poppa so she picks it up to read it. Anna’s face pales, “Ohh…fuuuck..” she whispers. “We go to war over salvage rights on an abandoned Continental ship? They must be desperate to dedicate such expense to a full out war over a ship they left laying around! Slaughtering tavern wenches and native girls is not enough for them apparently! ”. Not to mention Jamaica is under British rule! The British, however, had not been to the bay in weeks and the last time they visited it did not go over well with the rebels. Anna dismisses any faint concept that they would care if this small forgotten slice of thier vast Empire was under attack by rival Navies. Anna-Maria considers the list of allies she and the Rebels have acquired and worries about her abilities to defend her small region of Jamaica from the onslaught of the Continental Naval alliances. Surely where there are Continentals there will be Russians, possibly Spaniards. Perhaps her little bay will be one of the more hotly contested bits of land in the South Seas with the new RAN fort and rumors of the New Brunswick Navy setting up in nearby Aruba. Runaway bay may soon not be the peaceful respite from adventure as it has been since she arrived there several months ago.

Suddenly shouting is heard from the beach below her hut. Anna-Maria drops the scrolls and goes rushing out. Down below she sees a group of local Maroons gathered around some figure lying on the beach. As she approaches the group she recognizes the Maroon Elder, Khenan and makes her way to stand by his side. Khenan moves aside to wave her in and points at the figure of a barely clothed woman laying on the beach, “Madame Captain!” he says, “Look this here woman was just dropped off into the bay by a passing ship!”

Anna-Maria looks down at the woman splayed out on the beach and she suddenly recognizes all too well the slave silks issued by the city of Korat in North Africa along the Barbary Coast. There is a note stuffed into the bottle attached and tied to the body. Kneeling down Anna pulls the bottle out of the ropes that still bind the woman up. It is all too clear this poor soul is dead, but if she had been dead before she hit water, Anna could not know. Khenan starts issuing out orders to the villagers that started to gather, “Get back! Give respect to the dead!”

Anna pulls the cork off the bottle and fishes out the scroll. All that is on the note are two signatures, “Captan Shaka Brandris – Korat and Delores Metaluna – Dominica.” Suddenly Anna-Maria realizes what has happened. “That bitch!” she yells. Yes, that bitch has brought her worst enemy to her own beach! The resolve in Anna-Maria solidifies. These tactics do not scare her one bit. Looking down at the dead body Anna-Maria clenches her jaws together, “She has taken this too far! I’ll pay a 20 gold coin bounty on this Dolores and I don’t give a rat’s arse if she is dead or alive. There was no need for –this-!” she says gesturing to the body of the dead slave girl.

Hearing these words the Maroon Elder of Jamaica, Khenan Cabassoun, starts barking orders out to the Maroons that have gathered in the crowd, “Warriors, gather all you can find to fight the slavers of Dominica. Find the natives, and the other runaways! This atrocity will not go unpunished. We will free their slaves and give our own justice!” With these words from the Elder the people start to move quickly. The Maroon band turns to head back into the mountains while a member of Anna’s crew drags the body of the slave into the Garden courtyard. Anna-Maria starts to tug at the dress she had just put on, the jacket coming off as she strides with purpose back to her hut. It isn’t long before the fancy town dress is ripped off her body and replaced by the sturdier clothing she had just left beside the door earlier still stained with blood, dirt, salt and sand. Weapons are checked, muskets and pistols conditioned and her trusty saber once more sheathed at her belt, Anna heads back to the beach. A Rebel’s work is never done.

[Bosun Greybeard]

my eyes narrow as I read this, quiet anger building, and my blood runs hot as I think of these senseless atrocities. Antiquity is about to erupt my friends. Shutter your windows and bolt your doors, the Rebels are about to unleash the dogs of war.

[Giovanni Battista Orsini II]

Oma you have have a fantastic way with a story Great work!!!!!!!

[Bridget Jennings]

Very well done! A great read!!!