The Pirate Wives of Penn 001

The Pirate Wives of Penn
Being a collection of accounts of the adventures of Captain Jack Penn and his crew.
From the unfinished journals of Alexander Tilney

How I Met the Many Pirate Wives of Captain Jack Penn
October 4, 1712

My ship sought shelter at Turtle Island during the stormy season while I was documenting the lives of privateers in the Caribbean. The storm that followed our departure from Haiti was brutal, making everyone find shelter on land and indoors. It damaged the ships in the port bay, and we knew it would be some weeks to repair before we could set sail again.

I and some passengers of our vessel, the Adventure, stayed at the local inn. The Cutlass Inn. According to inn patrons, one man and seven exceptionally beautiful women from different lands comprised the entire staff. Despite their beauty, the pirates there treated the women with the utmost civility. Those who forgot themselves due to drink or lost themselves to their desires, were warned off it by a series of hands nailed to the wall beside the door.

In pirate settlements, punishments for misconduct are brutal and carried out by captains or landowners without regard for the law. The Cutlass Inn was no different. Its owner dictated its law, whom I met at a game of cards.

The owner stood several inches taller than those around him. He looked like a noble lord, handsome and well-groomed, with a strong iron-colored beard along his sharp jaw. He was of mixed race, with some French blood in his veins, and some Haitian. Later on, I discovered his father was French and his mother was a mix of French and Haitian. You can imagine my interest then, when I discovered this gossip, and compared it to his English name.

“So, where do you come from?” Captain Penn asked me as one woman of the inn dealt the cards beside him. She was a unique dark-skinned beauty from the Caribbean. Her skin bore all the shade and hardness of obsidian, yet her face was soft at its edges, and she had bore a pleasant expression all the while. Her cedar eyes rarely left the table, vigilant for cheaters.

“Scotland, originally.” I said. “I spent some time in Virginia. Now, I’m traveling through the Caribbean to document the islands' histories.”

“God save us from the historians.” Captain Penn scoffed. “Or we shall all become as immortal as the devil himself.” He said. His following laugh suggested that his condemnation of the pursuit was not as harsh as his words might suggest. He seemed rather interested in it, actually.

I laughed with the others at the table - a trading captain, a local fisherman, and a privateer captain with a spider tattoo on his right hand.

“So go on then. I give you my leave. Ask whatever questions you have inevitably built up by the mysteries of this place.” Captain Penn verbally prodded me. Despite knowing his intention to discuss the Caribbean, I couldn't resist asking about the mystery that intrigued me.

“What do you mean by those hands by the door?” I asked. “Are they the penalty you take for those who cheat at cards?”

The entire table laughed, as if I had made a joke.

“No.” The Captain said. “Those who cheat at cards keep their hands and lose their heads, and the pigs eat well in the morning.” He explained. “Those are any hands besides mine that have dared to touch a wife, of course.”

“Ah.” I said, missing some key remark within his answer at first. “I see. Which woman is your wife? Not that I intend to lay hands upon any such gentle creature.”

Everyone at the table, including the Haitian beauty who dealt the cards, laughed. “What?” I asked. “What did I say?”

“Two items worthy of laughter.” The Captain explained. “Your first assumption is that there is only one wife. In this inn, I decide the law, regardless of the European way. I have seven wives, the women you see staffing this inn.” He gestured then to the wall. “Second, to call any of them a gentle creature is to call a lioness a jackrabbit.” He scoffed. “The wall has hands, some bone, but I've never used a blade on them. My wives handle those matters themselves, and they do it well.”

I scanned the room and saw the women appraising me. My evaluation of them was likely more complimentary than theirs of me, but I shall endeavor to describe them.

The dealer I have already described, and the cook I could not see within the kitchens. Two women worked behind the bar, and three served the drinks. The Captain, being obliging, introduced them. The dealer’s name was Mirlande, and she nodded her head when introduced but still did not speak.

“Catalina. Whom I call Tali.” The Captain introduced one woman behind the bar. She was a black-haired woman whose origin I could not recognize. Her skin was the color of palest gold. She was curvaceous, but not taller than five and one-half feet. I could not help but take fresh notice of the curved blades on her hips, one on each side of her body.

He pronounced "Furi." in her native Japanese, referring to the other woman behind the bar. Furi was shorter, her hair black and tied up in a knot as she worked. She tied her long draping sleeves up to her elbows, and the dirty apron she wore protected fine garments of silk beneath it. She had a constantly angry expression, unless looking at the Captain.

“Amirah.” The Captain gestured to one server, a dark-skinned Arab woman dressed in colorful silks of clashing colors she made into trousers and a doublet. She adorned her intricately carved silver weapon sheaths with jewels and decorated them with tassels. In this place, they might have tempted many thieves. If someone had dared, she could have made good on the captain's threat to introduce them to the pigs.

“Lovisa.” The Captain continued and gestured to the pale giantess emerging from the kitchens. She wore a dirty apron, and roughly patched cotton men’s clothes beneath it. Despite her muscled forearms and clearly strong body, she had all the shape of a woman magnified by her height, standing taller than any man in the place. Her thick hair was the color of a golden dawn, braided like a crown around her head that twisted back into a weave that fell between her shoulders.

“And Kekoa.” Captain Penn introduced the woman, who set a mug of ale before him. She was sun-kissed with a light brown complexion, and dark hair like most of the others. I expected her eyes to be brown, but they were green and bright. She was the roundest wife, her face almost merry as she smiled and spoke an unfamiliar language. Looking to the Captain, he smiled and explained. “She says you should order some food. You look hungry.”

I laughed and assured her I would after this game of cards. “In the interest of my pursuits, however. It would bring me great satisfaction if you joined me for dinner and shared your stories. Your ability to gain multiple wives and their clearly adventurous nature fascinates me.”

Captain Penn nodded. “It is late for dinner, and I have already dined. However, if you return tomorrow and eat breakfast with us, I am sure you will hear enough of our stories to satisfy you.”

“That is quite hospitable of you.” I assured him.

“Nonsense.” Captain Penn assured me. “It is vain of me. I think I’d rather like to have our adventures collected and written in a book. If you could produce two copies of your work, one for our humble abode besides your own, then I would think it was time well spent.”

“It would be an honor.” I assured the captain. He seemed satisfied, though he lost the hand of cards to the fisherman.

We played until late at night, and I went to bed well after midnight. A knock on my door woke me early in the morning. Lovisa knocked. She invited me down to breakfast, where I was to hear the first of Captain Penn’s many adventures.