Book One Extract

The thing that she was first aware of was that the floor was moving; not violently, but it was rocking enough to suggest that wherever she was going, they were getting there with fair speed. The movement made her groan and feel nauseous as she sat up and felt all the feeling rush back to her aching head. She cracked her eyes open gingerly; they stung as the dim light met them. She looked around to find herself in a great cabin that was much larger than the one on the Le Dauphin; perhaps doubly so and a half. The setting sun, which was visible as a pinkish-orange slice against the ink-stained sky, cast the carved walnut wood panelling in a rosy glow; shadows sprung like monsters from the corners.

Careful not to be too quick in case she fainted again, Florencia stood up, and wobbled a little as she slowly got used to the rolling floor beneath her. It took her longer to become aware of her surroundings, but as she did, the brunette found herself assaulted by a heavy stench of stale sweat, cheap rum and, her empty stomach lurched, old blood. The humid weather stifled the place and there was no circulation to stop the odour from dying or settling on her tongue.

A sudden large swell underfoot made her stagger and fall back into a patch of darkness, where something that jangled loudly; with a muffled yelp she leapt back to stare wildly at a man-shaped and sized gibbet that had loose joints. It had been strung up like some grotesque puppet, and she shuddered at the sight of it. There was a big bird statue with long bronze feet sitting in the corner; off its crackled gold gilding, the last chinks of sunlight were reflected.

She wobbled her way to the large desk that somebody had nailed to the floor, and gasped when her hand brush something hard and rounded. She squealed when she looked down and saw that it was a largely toothless skull that had three jagged holes puncturing the right lobe.

Florencia stumbled away from the macabre ornament, and jumped wildly before freezing as somebody rattled the door. It cracked open an inch or two, but the ship tilted just then and slammed it shut again with the sound of shaking glass; with a spare few moments that she had, the brunette dived behind the desk and squeezed her eyes shut. There were three draws, she found, and her fingers scrabbled to grasp one of the slender handles; when she did she jerked the draw open and reached inside it, feeling around desperately for anything.

The door burst open then and bounced off of the wooden wall with the sheer force of the entrance. It did not slam shut but was kicked so before eyes the greyish colour of a hurricane glared at the room and surveyed the darkening space. The pirate captain sneered as he spotted Florencia.

He was still wearing his hat and head-kerchief as he started stalking her. His boots were loud on the plank floor and she yelped piercing before pulling out the random thing that she had wrapped her thin hand around. She thrust forwards with a loud of cry of-

“Stay back or I will hurt you, I swear it!”

The pirate sneered incredulously, and replied incredulously, in broken Spanish-

“With a poppet?”

Florencia cracked an eye open and let out an ear-splitting screech. She dropped the wood and leather doll down onto the desk beside the skull. The glass eyes stared up at her; someone snorted.

“No offence meant, little girl, but I know the stories of witches from Africa who impart their dark powers on white women.”

His voice was slightly hoarse from shouting. He smirked and resumed walking towards her with a wry smile on his bitten lips.

“And you seem like an unlikely pupil…but then again,” he said more quietly, “I’m only an ‘umble pirate; ‘ow could I possibly know about what goes on in yer nursery…?”

He snickered at his own words and rounded the table at that moment. He made to grab Florencia who in turn ran around the other side, putting the old piece of furniture between them. She eyed his cocksure smirk warily as it made her wonder what wicked ideas were being mulched by the tarnished cogs in his head.

It transpired to be her weakness too. She was lost in almost paranoid thought as the pirate all but threw himself over the table and at straight her. His lunge was clumsy and he made the skull bounce but Florencia still felt his strong fingers snagging her dress with yet another tearing noise as she leapt away from him.

He snarled angrily in her ear and gnashed his teeth before she caught her foot under the tatty rug; Florencia went flying and the pirate captain cackled in a rather unmanly way. He clambered gracelessly over the table, but there was purpose and power in his movement.

“Get up.”

A hard and fairly pointy, if worn, toe nudged her in the ribs, right he had kicked her earlier. She could feel a bruise swelling there, and she kept her face pressed to the thick and filthy slice of cloth underneath her instead of look at him.

“Stand! I can’t see yer when yer crumpled up like a dog.”

Florencia remained where she was and she uttered a short scream when a salted and three-fingered hand grasped her by the chin and yanked her upright before she was thrown against the writing table. The ability to not tremble in fright escaped her, so she stood shaking as the pirate glared down on her. He appeared to be in thought until someone loomed outside the glass-fronted door; they knocked and he swore filthily as he turned and stalked away from her again.