Then men punched each other’s arms and spoke enthusiastically.

“Aye, Cap’n, that’s good news indeed!” Pim said, smiling. He turned and made his way across the deck to the Captain’s quarters.

The symbiotic relationship between the town and pirates began years earlier when Milton Shrewsbury, Mayor of St. Albans, made a deal with the privateer captains: if they agreed to police their crew and confine their shore activities to an area two miles from the town proper, he would construct a Free Zone at the North Port to include a general store, ale house, gambling house, rooming house, and a house of prostitution. While in the Free Zone, the pirates could do as they wished, subject to Captain’s law. The town of St. Alban’s benefitted from the pirates’ trade, of course, but also from the valuable gifts and sorely needed supplies the pirates freely donated.

“Come here, you fargin’ banshee!” Pim shouted from within Jack’s cubicle. The entire crew chuckled as Pim continued cursing Rugby. “Show yourself, you motherless cur! You evil vomitous bitch! Get out here, or I’ll turn your hairless arse into a crossbones, you poisoned pig’s pizzle!”

A pirate caught outside the Free Zone was subject to immediate imprisonment, a mandatory six-month sentence. If, in addition to being caught the pirate had committed a crime, the Mayor could order him hung. By the same token, any St. Alban’s woman found in the Free Zone, a.k.a. Sinner’s Row, could not claim rape, should she be set upon by a drunken pirate or scallywag, subject to the preset rules of the ship’s Captain.

“Bull’s blood!” shouted Martin, the boatswain, from the foredeck.

Jack looked in his direction. “Torn sail?”

“Aye,” said Martin. “The jib.”

“Satan’s eye!” one of the men cursed. A torn jib sail could easily take an hour to repair.

“Set to it, then,” Jack said, calmly.

Jack Hawley didn’t look like the other pirates, even when dressed in full battle regalia. He was youthful in appearance, with fair skin and a smooth, unpoxed face that he kept clean-shaven. He had a full set of white teeth, and a well-muscled body.

“I’ll head out now, and you can hoist anchor when she’s repaired.” Jack said.

Though an ambush was unlikely, Jack was cunning enough to want to keep his identity a secret. Indeed, last time in port, Mayor Shrewsbury had gone to the main pier of North Port with an entourage of businessmen to welcome the ship and asked for Hawley by name, and twenty men stepped forward claiming to be he.

Pim approached, having finally caught the cat-like animal. Rugby was unhappily bundled in a white silk scarf that featured French writing on all four borders. Pim pointed the surly beast’s face away from him and held her tightly with both hands, as far away from his body as possible.

“The crew’ll be breathin’ a sigh of relief once you get this cursed creature off the ship,” Pim said.

Captain Jack looked at the slender hairless cat and smiled. “I’m amazed the crew let her live this long.”

“Only be due to your fondness for it, I’d wager.”

Upon hearing Jack’s voice, Rugby struggled to break free of Pim’s giant hands. The savage hissing that escaped her mouth sounded more serpent than cat. Pim’s eyes registered fright.

“May I set her down, Captain?”

Jack nodded, and Pim released his grip. Rugby, still tangled in the scarf, failed to make the proper adjustments for attitude and distance, and hit the floor hard. She shook the scarf off her body and offered a shrieking hiss that caused the Quarter-Master to shudder and grip the stock of his loaded pistol.

“She’s unique, Pim.”

“If I may say so, Cap’n, she’s a monstrosity of nature who ain’t right in the head. Some on board are convinced she’s the devil’s tit.”

“And you, Mr. Pim?”

“I won’t be goin’ that far with my conjecturin’, Cap’n, but I’m one a them that’s gonna feel a hell of a lot safer when this malignant beast is mousin’ on the mainland.”

Jack laughed. “You should charge our musicians with composing a tune by that name.”

Pim grinned. “Mousin’ on the Mainland?”

“Aye. And you can pen the words.”

“I’ll do ‘er,” he said. Then added, “Provided you’ll be pardonin’ the language that might be defamin’ Rugby’s character.”

“You’re still upset over the beard incident.”

Pim’s eyes narrowed as he eyed the cat. Rugby caught the look and arched her back. “Hell of a way to be woke up, Cap’n. A man tries to catch a few winks and wakes to this hairless devil’s spawn givin’ ‘im the evil eye, rippin’ ‘is chops, rakin’ her claws over ‘is face…”

“I can still hear your screams in my head.”

“Aye, and I ain’t the only one. That hairless bat ain’t popular among them that’s been woke similar in the crew.”

Jack clucked softly, and Rugby turned to face him. She rubbed her body against his leg and purred. Jack dropped to one knee and scratched her ears. When he stopped, the ugly gray creature hopped effortlessly onto his shoulder. Jack stood and walked to the small dory and climbed in.

“You got your kit?” Pim said.

Jack reached under the front bench and removed the large leather satchel. He checked the contents, nodded, and strapped it over his shoulder. Pim signaled his team to lower the dory into the bay. The water foamed around

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