The Noble Pirates Read Online Free PDF Page A

bullshitting me!” Then, taking stock of England’s expression, I continued in a weaker voice, “When I fell of the boat, it was – is – 2011. I was on vacation with my friends.” I hesitated, the panic blossoming. “One of us is crazy, and it sure as hell isn’t me!” My voice became shriller, and the captain sensed my panic. He held his hands up.
    “Easy, cailin .” His voice was soothing. “Certainly, there’s been a misunderstanding. Now, it’s not that I don’t believe ye. It’s that, should it get out what’s in yer mind, you’d be strung up for a witch, ye see?” He looked back at the door, then at me. His thin lips were pressed into a line, the creases on his brow pronounced. “Yer not in the friendliest of company here in Nassau. I don’t know what happened to ye, but I can tell ye that this isn’t the Nassau ye’ll remember. This here is home to the Flying Gang.”
    My breath quickened, my mind unable and unwilling to accept a single word. “What’s that?”
    Captain England smiled a little, a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The Flying Gang’s the most fearsome group of pirates that ever lived.”
    I blinked. This is a joke. A horribly un-funny joke. Inside my mind, a battle raged, and my sanity was at stake. While I wanted to laugh at Captain England’s nonsensical words, I couldn’t ignore what I was seeing with my own eyes. Unless there were islands that looked remarkably like New Providence and Paradise Island somewhere nearby, and unless those islands were inhabited by hundreds of pirate re-enactors who really believed they lived in 1718…
    I couldn’t process it. This had to be a hoax. As I sat there in the warm, simple frame house, looking at this man who, for all intents and purposes, had jumped off a movie set and decided he really liked playing pirate, I realized I had a choice: either play along, or get myself killed by a bunch of crazies. I fought back the desire to scream and cry and throw things, to beg that I be allowed to go home. It won’t do any good, I told myself. I was terrified, but I took a deep breath.
    I thought carefully before speaking, watching England puff quietly on his pipe. Finally, I said, “I was in 2011 when I fell off the boat, and now I’m in 1718. Is that what we’re saying here?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer. “If everyone here, in 1718, would think I’m a witch, why do you give me the benefit of the doubt? From your perspective, I’m completely batshit crazy.”
    England replied, “Because I believe that ye’re from someplace very foreign, and that ye found yerself here unexpectedly.”
    I pushed my disheveled hair from my face as I asked, “But why do you believe that?”
    England set his pipe down carefully, knitting his brow. “Because we found this floating with ye.” From beneath the table, the captain withdrew my backpack. As I gasped, he continued, “I didn’t let anyone look inside, save myself and my quartermaster, Jameson… It made him mighty wary of ye, lass, and angry with me when I protected ye.”
    I took the backpack eagerly from him. Something from my life, something from the sane world… I began to chatter excitedly to England. “The booze cruise was my friend Tanya’s idea. I insisted on loading all of our stuff into one backpack, so we wouldn’t lose anything. I can be anal about stuff …”
    As I spoke, I unzipped the backpack – it had definitely seen better days – and immediately began fishing for my Blackberry. I pulled it out joyfully, and on a whim tried to turn it on. Nice try, Sabrina. Then I went through the other items quickly: my iPod, also shot to hell; a blister pack of Dramamine for motion sickness (it sure would have been nice to have this a little while ago); my friend Tanya’s makeup bag, most of the items inside in good condition, including three multi-colored, ribbed condoms (Christ, what had Captain England thought of that? At least they were still in their