Peg Leg Louisa 2

Peg Leg Louisa 2

The Bay of Biscay. Sunset.
She leant on the rail and thought, this is good. This is so very good. They were sailing down to Portugal, calling in at Lisbon for a refit and to take on supplies. They were, mostly, all right for things such as food and water but it paid to be well-stocked in case of some unforeseen event.
The sea was gentle, which was quite uncommon for the Bay. It was very often rough here.
There was a slight sound behind her and she turned and then smiled at Polly Kilpatrick who had, also, a smile on her face but it was also a little perplexed, too.
Polly was tall, dark and very good looking. She wore a linen shirt, a long black waistcoat and black breeches. She also wore her new left peg leg and hook hand, courtesy of the ship’s carpenter, Bob. The hook was steel secured with a black-strapped gauntlet. Louisa said, “Well, now then, Mistress Kilpatrick! You look…” she nearly said enticing but left it with, “Very nice!”
“Thank you.” She smiled and stumped over to Louisa.
“Ah, you’re welcome.” She looked down at Polly’s wooden leg. “How does it feel?”
“Really good. As does this.” She raised her hook. “Your carpenter, Mister Martin, did a good job. A very good job!”
“Ah, Bob’s a good man and has a perfect eye for detail.” She glanced at the retaining black leather belt buckled about Polly’s hips. “Looks good on you.”
“Thank you. And thank you, too, for the clothes. I’ve never worn these kind of things before.”
“Sure, I know. Breeches and shirts? Men’s attire; but we can hardly parade about in long skirts and petticoats, can we?”
“No, I suppose not.” She shook her head. “Thanks for the boot, too.” He patted the thigh length black leather sea boot on her good right leg.
“Think nothing of it. Well, I wasn’t going to wear it ever again.” She, herself, had lost her right leg just above the knee in a skirmish with the French a few of months back. The boot was now useless to her and it looked good on her new friend. Polly looked across the sea.
There was a rather petulant ‘meow’. They both turned. Grimalkin was staring up at them both. She said, to Polly, “Ship’s cat.”
“Oh, he’s nice! I love cats.”
“And he loves to be loved.” She leant down and stroked him. He responded by rubbing himself against her wooden leg. “He’s a good shipmate and catches more rats than you can shake a stick at.”
Polly smiled and stroked him. She thought for a moment. “I’ve never been on a ship before. Grimalkin knows what to do, but I’m not sure what I can do here.”
“Ah, there’s always work to be done. Can you cook?”
“Sure I can. Worked in the Chain Locker, didn’t I?”
“Well you can help the cook, can’t you?”
“Of course. Anything you say, skipper.” She looked up at the sails billowing above them. “Not too sure I can get up there, though.” She glanced down at her new wooden leg.
“We’ll see,” she said with a smile. “Plenty of other stuff to be done on a ship, don’t y’know?”
“I’m sure of it, but I… I feel a little lost, Louisa.”
“We all do, love. We’re all of us lost, I reckon.”
“Sounds about right.” She thought. “Are you from Falmouth?”
“I am. Cornish lass through and through, but my ma was Irish. Dad…” She thought for a long moment. “He was a good man, the best.”
“I’m sure of it. So, how did you come to be the skipper of this ship?”
“It was originally my father’s. He worked his way up the ranks and became captain before he died of malaria in the Indies. At Tortuga.” She sighed sadly. “He, like a lot of other men, sailors and soldiers, were at a loose end after the War of the Spanish Succession finished. They had plenty of time on their hands and plenty of fight still in them, but no money so they took to privateering.” She sighed. “Dad, he was at Cape La Hogue back in ’92, year before I was born. Served under Sir Cloudsley Shovell. Took part in the attack on the Royal Sun. Louis XIV’s flagship. They used a fire ship to destroy it. All but one of the crew of that French vessel died, and Dad got no pleasure at all from that as they were sailors just like him and his mates. But still… it had to be done. And what did Denzel Thorngate get for it? Being told to piss off when the war ended, slung out without a by your leave.” She heard the bitterness in her voice. “Bugger all. They used him and so many others and then discarded them.”
“I think I see. You sound… clever. Can you read and write?”
I can. Got some really good books in my cabin. Can you?”
“Yes, I can.” She smiled. “What books?”
“John Milton’s work, Paradise Lost. Stuff by Daniel Defoe and Jonathan Swift. Shakespeare. Some others.”
“I love to read,” she said. “But I ain’t had much time for it recently.”
“Then let’s read together.”
“That’d be nice.” Her expression darkened. “Some blokes think women are thick, not as good as them.”
“Anybody says that near me, they’ll get this-” she raised her wooden leg. “Right in their bollocks!”
Polly laughed and shook her head. “You’re a girl and half and no mistake!”
“I do my little best,” she said. Then: “What’s your story? You’re from London, so how did you end up in Falmouth?”
“Bit complicated,” she said, reluctance in her voice and Louisa thought, don’t push it with her, girl.
Polly said, “My dad, he was like your ma, Irish, but me mum was from Bow. They died when I was little and my gran looked after me, then, but it was really tough. I… I ran into the wrong people and had to get out of town dead sharp, see?” She smiled at Louisa and the gesture was an odd blend of innocence and knowing defiance.
Louisa thought, I could easily fall in love with her. She, mostly, preferred men, but sometimes, if the right lady came along… She stepped a little closer to Polly who didn’t back away.
“Skipper!” A man’s voice called from the Crow’s Nest.
She looked up along with Polly.
“What is it, Tom?”
“Think we’ve got company, Skip!”
Her heart sank. She didn’t need to ask but she did anyway. “Who?”
Tom called back, “Can’t say for sure, yet, but it looks like Harry Neville!”
“Thanks. Keep an eye on him.” She thought, that bloody bilge rat! Christ, what was wrong with the man? Well she knew, didn’t she? She and Harry had had a falling out about a supposed gambling debt owed to him by her late father. Of course, there was no debt. That was rubbish. Denzel always paid his dues, for good or ill, as did she. No, it was just Harry Neville being his usual bloody-minded self again.
Fucking arsehole, she thought.
Polly said, “What’s going to happen?”
“We’ll sort it out now.” She saw Tom scrambling down the ratlines from the mast and onto the deck. George and Johnny joined them soon enough. Johnny said, “So, then, Skip?”
She looked at Tom who held up his telescope and said, “Looks pretty much like the Puma to me, cap’n, although I could be wrong. Dusk is coming on.”
She said, “I trust your eyes and your judgment, Tom.” She thought for a moment. “Well, then, what are going to do?”
Polly said nothing. She was entirely new to this world.
George thought for a moment. “He’s got advantages, Lou. So have we.”
“Tell me,” she said but she knew, already, what they were. She just needed them aired.
“He’s got more cannons than us. Quite a bit more and some with longer range than ours. Ship’s bigger too. Bigger crew.”
“Right. Go on?” She raised an eyebrow with a glance at Johnny.
He said, “We’re much faster. I wouldn’t like to take on that ship in close combat with the Louisa, but we can outrun him, no doubt about that.” He shrugged and gave her a smile.
“Let’s do that, then,” she said promptly.
Johnny said, “Well, yes, but he knows we’re heading for Lisbon.”
“Sure he does!” She laughed. “So, when it gets dark, we hard to starboard and then…” She smiled at her to senior officers and Polly who shrugged.
“Then?” Polly asked.
“Why, then we head for South Carolina.” She looked closely at George. “We’ve enough food and water, I’m sure.”
He nodded. “More than enough. Get there and back, no problem with that.”
“Good man!” She winked at him and then said to Tom, “Back up the Crow’s Nest and keep an eye well out for our friend Harry.”
“On my way,” he said with a nod, turned about and went back up the ratlines to the mast.
Polly said, “South Carolina?”
“Got friends there in Charleston,” Louisa said with a grin.
“You strike me as a person who has friends in a lot of places.”
“Well, with people like Harry about you often need them,” she said.
“I suppose you must,” she said with a nod.
The helmsman, Nick, at a nod from Louisa swung the ship hard to starboard, heading westward across the Atlantic. Neville would see the manoeuvre of course but being a slower ship the Puma wouldn’t catch them and now he would have no idea where they were heading. She thought of Harry raging about it but there was very little he could do, she knew. She thought, let him rot. She grinned at Polly who smiled back uncertainly. She thought, going to have to keep an eye on her for a while. Polly’s strong and brave but she’s in a new world and, she looked westward, that’s where we’re going. The New World. They headed into the sunset, the black speck of the Puma falling away behind them until it vanished over the curve of the horizon and into the darkness rising from the east.
She said to Johnny and George, “Secure things up here, set a watch and we’ll knock off for the night.”
George said, “Aye, Skip.”
Johnny nodded and gave Polly a wink and she returned it.


Below Decks. The Foc’sle.
George sat with Bob and Johnny at a small bench under a swaying lantern, shadows moving in time with the light from the lamp. The sea was beginning to swell ominously, he knew.
He was from London, Southwark, while Johnny Phillips was from Cardiff and Bob from Bristol. They’d always had a good-humoured rivalry between their three cities.
George took a sip from his glass and Johnny said, “What’s that you’re drinking, butt?”
“You know fucking well. It’s gin.” His head was already buzzing a little. A lot of the men now drank the new stuff coming in; the rum from the Indies, but he still liked a drop of the good old Dutch Courage.
Johnny said, “Makes you go blind that does, man.”
“Really?” He grinned at Johnny and put his index finger and thumb together and made an unmistakable gesture of masturbation. “I thought this was what did it.”
“Well, that too!” The three of them laughed.
Johnny said, “See, we’re doing all right, but things could be better.”
Bob said, “Harry Neville.”
George nodded. “That arse! I’d gut him like a fish, given half a chance.”
“Wouldn’t we all,” Bob said with a nod. He was an elderly, slim bearded man with bright eyes and a keen mind.
George said, “Polly.”
Johnny said, “What of her?”
“Nice girl.”
Bob smiled and nodded. “Lovely lady. Ah, if I were forty years younger…”
George laughed good-naturedly, “She’d still tell you to fuck off!”
“More’n likely,” Bob said and sipped his rum with a knowing smile. “She’s very nice.”
Johnny said, “Wonder what ‘er and the Skip are doing right now?”
George shrugged. “Knowing Louisa, they’re probably reading Milton!”
The ship suddenly pitched downwards and then back up again. The wind suddenly started to gust and whistle beyond the vessel. The hull and superstructure creaked loudly.
George said, drily, “Storm. There’s a storm coming. Not for a few hours, yet…” He bit his lip. “May even be twelve or so, but it’s on its way, boys.”
Johnny sighed. “Well, now, there’s a thought to conjure with.”
“Got that right,” he said and downed his gin.


It struck at dawn. Roaring, white-crested waves like mountains under swift leaden clouds laced with lightning. They’d furled the sails, turned into the direction of the storm and waited to ride it out but Louisa knew it was one of the worse she’d ever experienced in her years at sea with her father.
She’d said to Polly, “Stay in the cabin!”
“But I want to help!”
She’d said, gently, “That’s the best way you can, love. You’re not an experienced sailor, yet, and we need to concentrate on what we’re doing!”
“All right!”
Now she was on deck with Nick Bentley the helmsman, desperately, along with her, trying to keep the bow of the ship pointed into the direction of the storm. If they turned the ship for even a fraction away, presenting a broadside, then there was a good chance the Louisa would capsize, go down to Davey Jones’ Locker and she wasn’t going to let that happen.
Nick screamed above the roaring gale, “At least if Harry’s following us, he’s catching this too!”
“Yes!” She screamed back. She was soaked and freezing, even the oilcloth coat and hat she wore were not keeping out the elements. Christ, she thought, this has to end soon, but when? And how would it end?
Nick said in terror, “Oh, fuck!”
She looked forward to see a massive wave roaring towards them. She shut her eyes momentarily, grabbed Nick and kissed him on the cheek. “Here it is! We get through this or…”
“Or we’re fish bait.” He nodded. He hugged her and then the wave hit like a battery of cannon going off.
The Louisa rose up, riding the crest of it and then pitched down, almost vertically, in the following trough. Another wave came but this time far less powerful than the last.
Then another, again, less powerful. Nick, his face worn with exhaustion said, “Cap’n? Louisa?”
“What… what is it?” She was utterly weary.
“Look,” he said as quietly as the wind allow. He pointed south westwards.
There was, miraculously, a sliver of blue sky on the horizon. She leant against the rail and almost wept in relief. She turned and smiled at him. “Good work, Nick.”
“Thanks, skipper. Couldn’t’ve done it without you.”
“Go get someone up here to relieve. You need a break.”
He raised a dripping eyebrow. “And you don’t?”
“I’m the captain. I never have a break,” she said but she laughed and he laughed with her. He went down to the deck and vanished below. Soon Simon Finch appeared and took over. He said, “Skipper.”
“Simon. Looks like we’re through it.”
“Heading, skipper?”
“Still South Carolina. Charleston.”
“Understood,” he said while more men came up on deck along with Polly who looked ashen but undeterred.
Polly said, “Christ what a thing that was!”
“That’s sea life for you. Still want to be with us?”
Polly nodded vigorously. “Better than being spoken to like shit in the Chain Locker, although Jack weren’t so bad to work for.”
“That’s the spirit,” she said and gave her a quick, tight hug.
“You’re soaked.”
“Part of the job,” she said and stumped across the deck and went below, Polly following her. She said to her, “Thanks for offering to help but at the moment it wouldn’t have been wise.”
“Oh?”
“Takes time to get used to being on a ship.”
“And I’ve got a hook and a peg leg, too,” she said raising a dark eyebrow. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, I’ve got a peg leg but I was on this ship for years before I got it, remember.”
“I will. I want to be as useful as I can be.”
“Let me tell you, none of us were much use out there when that storm hit. All we could do was hang on for dear life.”
“I get your point,” she replied.
One the lads, Bert Hayes, came over and said, “The bilges are pretty well full, Skip. Got to get the pumps a-going.”
“Sure,” she said.
Polly said, “I’ll go down there.”
“It’s filthy, Polly.”
“So is life, Louisa. I’m crew, not a passenger, all right?”
“Go to,” she said with a grin and gave her a quick hug.
Bob Martin the carpenter appeared from below. He looked tired, well they all did. She said, “Damage?”
“Nothing I can’t repair.” He looked up at the masts. “Still got them all, thanks be to Christ, but…” He shrugged. “I’ll get to it, me and the lads.”
“Good man,” she said and clapped him firmly on the shoulder. He smiled and said to Polly, “Be careful down there. It’s slippery. I don’t want you busting that new peg leg of yours!” He laughed and she laughed with him.
“Do my best not to,” she said and tapped off across the still rolling deck, although the storm was dying quickly now. She went below.
Bob said, “I’ll get to work.”
“Soon as you can, I want to be in Charleston as early as possible.”
He left her and she said, “Tom!”
He appeared beside her. “Yes, skipper?”
“Up you go and keep an eye out aft for… any problems.”
“Right, Skip,” he said with a nod. He went quickly up the ratlines.
With the crew setting to put the ship to rights, she took a deep breath and leant against the wet rail. The stump of her leg ached. It always did when the weather was like this; cold and wet. She looked down at the slim black shaft strapped to her thigh and thought, well. It could have been worse, could it not?
She braced herself and stumped quickly over to where Johnny was supervising some men who were clearing the deck of debris. He looked at her and said, wearily, “It could have been a lot worse, cap’n.”
“Yes,” she said and thought none of us might be alive now except for luck and the skill of Nick at the helm. Christ. Still, they were still here and that was good enough for now. She said, “Johnny, soon as can be, we’re heading for Charleston.”
He nodded.
She looked up at Tom in the Crow’s Nest. “Anything?”
He called back. “Sea’s still pretty rough but no, there’s nothing I can see!”
“Let’s hope it stays that way!”
Amen to that!” He called back. George came up on deck, “Bilges are clearing, skipper.”
“Good work. How’s Polly?”
He grinned. “Looking like she’s been tarred and feathered for a street-corner doxy!”
“She’ll scrub up,” she said.
“She’s a good ‘un, her,” Johnny said.
“Oh, she is,” she agreed and thought, how long will she be with us before she gets weary of the life? A lot did. They came to hate the uncertainties, the danger; even came to hate the sea itself. Give her time, she told herself. She’s brave and wise to the world. Give her time.
She heard a movement and she turned to see Polly standing there, covered in filth and drenched to the skin. She looked awful but she had a smile on her face. In her good right hand she held the bedraggled Grimalkin who looked very unhappy.
Polly said, “He fell into the bilge, poor thing and, well, yes, I’m sure I’ve looked a lot better!”
“We’ll get the two of you cleaned up, love. You did good work down there.”
“Thank you.” She gave the cat to her. He mewed piteously but he relaxed in Louisa’s arms. She stroked him and the she took a deep breath, shouted, “Come on, my lads! There’s a tavern or two to be drunk dry in Charleston!”
They gave a thin but heartfelt cheer and set to work.

To be continued…