Pirate Code by Helen Hollick Page B

tapped the silver knob of his walking cane on the outer door, seeking an exit.
    For a moment of panic Jesamiah thought he was going to leave without freeing him. “Sir!” he shouted, forcing himself to sound contrite, “Sir, please! I need to be with her!”
    “What? Oh yes, yes.” Pointing his cane at the guard who had opened the door, then at Jesamiah, Rogers barked, “Release this fellow.” To Jesamiah added, “I’ll be holding y’weapons though. I’ll not be permitting ye those until after this business is completed.”
    The key grated in the lock and Jesamiah was out, pushing past Rogers who, despite being a portly man, grabbed hold of his arm with surprising swiftness. “And I will be having those ribbons from your hair, Captain. I know they are not mere fripperies to give as keepsakes to the numerous whores you romp with in bed.”
    Growling, Jesamiah yanked them from his hair, threw them to the floor and ran, leaping up the flight of steps and out into the sunlight.
    Rogers picked up one of the ribbons and coiled the ends around his fingers, pulled them taut, gave an experimental tug and then tossed the strands around the tied neck of a sack, using it as a stand-in victim. He crossed his arms, pulled, and the sack tumbled from its pile, spilling mouldy corn everywhere.
    The sentry guard looked straight ahead, said nothing as Rogers coughed, embarrassed, and left. He did, however, retrieve the ribbons for himself and shove them in his uniform pocket.
    Following more sedately in Jesamiah’s wake, Woodes Rogers was pleased with himself. Jennings had said the plan would work. Jennings was right. Mind, the cannon was only loaded and aimed, was not yet fired. Acorne was a pirate and Rogers knew not one pirate who kept his side of a bargain.
    There was cheering and an audible rise of noise from the direction of the town. Rogers strode a little faster, best get this thing done first, then concentrate on coercing Acorne to do their bidding. It was essential for him to find Chesham. Most essential.

Eight
    The whores were screaming abuse at the men, a few rotten eggs being thrown along with mouldering fruit and projected spittle, and their common shout of protest. There was not a woman in Nassau who wished Tiola ill, for reliable midwives were treasured. Enough women, even in the short time she had been here, had benefited because of her calm wisdom and dextrous skill. Every woman feared childbirth for too many did not survive its endurance; to be aware there was one among them who knew what she was doing, in itself, was a godsend, but to have a woman who could advise how to prevent a child being formed, or be rid of one? Among those who survived by selling their bodies to pleasure men, such a woman was welcomed indeed. And Tiola knew more; how to stop the milk-fever, ease the cramps of a monthly flux – how to prevent the pox of syphilis and cures for a variety of ailments and illnesses. She was a healer, confidante and friend, and the women of Nassau voiced their objection to this disgraceful treatment of her in vehement disgust.
    The militia held them back, bayonets fixed into their muskets, more than one of the soldiers cursing as they tried to concentrate on the shuffling push of angry women, while glancing over their shoulders at one in particular. Tiola was a beauty. There were several men who were eager to see what tantalising secrets were concealed beneath her shift; many who were envious of Jesamiah Acorne. The only ones who stood silent, frowning disapproval or muttering abuse along with the whores, were the loyal crew of the Sea Witch .
    Jesamiah swore repeatedly as he shoved his way through the crowd. Was all of Nassau here to gawp?
    Rue appeared behind him, caught his arm. “It will be over in a few moments, Capitaine . Grit your teeth and bear it as she will be doing.”
    “Like fokken hell I will!” Jesamiah thrust the grip aside and peeled off his hat and coat, dropping them into his