Making waves
By Alyssa Plant

What happens when a really good plan meets with its arch nemisis: Being put into action. A tale of One girl's self discovery, love, and swashbuckling on the high seas.
Part One.

Peter Goldwyn shivered in the early morning chill as he stood on the deck of the ship transporting him and two dozen other passengers southwards towards the East Indies. His father had left England when he was a babe under the flag to conduct the business of the crown in the territories of the Caribbean. His mother had told him tails of his father’s work, and where he lived, and he had learned to read with the letters his father had sent home.
Here he was; 15 years old, and aboard a ship sailing ever closer to his father. Peter closed his eyes and pictured his father’s painting over the mantelpiece in their London home, He pictured the port in Barbados, and his father, just like the painting rushing to meet him and his mother as they disembarked from the ship. The image brought a smile to his lips. Peter longed to see his father again, to be part of a real family like his friends had. Of course all of those friends remained behind in London while he was many many miles away. He had no idea how far, but it must be at least hundreds.
They were, according to the ship’s captain, a week out of the outer Caribbean. Peter had risen early that morning to try to catch sight of the dolphin’s the ships crew talked of, that bobbed and weaved as they swam alongside the ship. So far, he had seen nothing, but the fact he had not been looking slipped his over burdened mind. It was relaxing to be alone,. Well sort of alone, the ships crew were around, maintaining their charge, keeping them ploughing onward towards their destination. He relished time away from his mother. He felt less guilty for not being the son she wanted. His friends had grown tall, and strong, and become interested in girls, but Peter had not. If anything, he had become interested in his friends, much to his horror. Peter felt like god had punished him for his thoughts, his desires, the ones he kept locked away in his heart. He had never wanted to be a boy… he had never liked the rough and tumble games they had played, or the way they behaved. And as a punishment for his thoughts and inadequacies, god had punished him with a frail slight frame, and none of the manly attributes his friends possessed. Of course, a part of peter relished this, prayed it would always be, but his rational side told him the truth as he saw it. It was wrong, and a sin… That much he knew.

“Peter?” called his mother from behind. Turning, he snapped out of his self debate and smiled at his mother weakly. Marie Goldwyn was an attractive woman; she had given birth to Peter when she was 20, and time had been kind to her. Her long dark hair done up in an simple bun, with several strands breaking loose to frame her elegant face. Peter envied his mother.
Marie hugged the shawl tightly around her shoulders against the breeze as she approached her son. “Why are you awake so early Peter?” she questioned with a hint of concern in her conversational tone. “Are you feeling well?”

“Yes mother.” He smiled, “I just wanted to see the dolphins.”

Marie smiled and wrapped her arm around her son. She loved the boy with all her heart, but in truth, a pang of fear grew steadily stronger in her heart. What would Thomas say about him? Would he accuse her of failing to raise his son properly? Blame her for his lack of masculinity? Maybe this was just the way god had for him? To be a gentle soul, a kind, loving compassionate young man…

”What is it?” Peter asked looking up at his mother.

”Oh nothing darling.” She smiled, just thinking about your father.

Peter smiled, “I cant wait to see him, I don’t really remember him much.” He frowned. “All I have are the paintings in the house to really remember him by.”

Marie hugged her child. “Well you’ll get to soon enough. And we shall not be apart again.”

Four days later, The ship entered the first Island clusters of the Caribbean waters. Marie and Peter sat eating Dinner with the ship’s captain and the other passengers of standing n his quarters. They had just begun the meal when a ships crewman burst in, apologising profusely, but requiring the captain’s immediate presence at the helm. Making his apologies, the captain left the guests and followed the crewman.
“What the blazes is so damned important Davis, that couldn’t have waited till after dinner?” growled Captain Stevens as he followed his crewman to the helm deck.

Davis didn’t answer, but walked over to a crewman holding a telescope and handed it to the captain.

”That sir.” He announced grimly pointing towards a dot on the horizon.

Captain Stevens placed the lens to his eye and focused on the object. It was a ship at full sail. Atop its mainsail, a Calico Jack flew in the breeze.
Stevens felt his heartbeat quicken. He had dealt with pirates in the past, but he never relished the prospect of a boarding action with passengers aboard. He would try to outrun them and make for nearest port, damn the schedule…

“Full sail Davis, and arm the crew just in case, we’re running.” Barked Captain Stevens before making his way back bellow decks.

Dinner broke up early that night as the passengers were informed and crew readied.

Marie lead Peter to their cabin and locked the door behind them. She knew it was of little point, but it made her feel better. Peter was divided, one part of him fantasised about pirates, and the adventures… heroes and villains…, but another part was scared. Scared of fighting, and of death.

His mother paced the cabin a few times before sitting heavily on her bed..
”Mother?” he asked, half for reassurement that everything would be ok, half to reassure her. His mother didn’t look worried as he had first thought, she was concentrating furiously, thinking, working things over in her mind.. Feeling foolish stood there in the middle of the cabin, Peter sat beside her and placed his hand on hers as she held them clasped in her lap.

Marie worked the plan over in her mind several times, if what she had heard was correct, then it might well save Peter’s life… but could she? Could he? Could they? According to the captain, they might outrun the pirates, but at best, they had 2 hours before they knew for sure. Running the plan through her mind one last time, she explained things to Peter.

They would disguise peter as a teenage girl, her daughter… She had heard that pirates took young men and boys to bolster their ranks… to indoctrinate them in ways of crime and deviancy… If they thought peter was a young girl, they would spare him?
Anxiously, she watched her son for any sign of indignant refusal or bravado, but she saw none. He wore a look of meek acceptance and fear, mixed with something she couldn’t quite tell… Dismissing it, Marie began digging into her cases, she located the packages she had brought from the Oxford street boutiques for the Governor’s daughter as a gift; a child of similar age and size to peter. A pretty dress with all the fine accoutrements a fine lady of the City would wear… and would now hopefully save her darling son’s life.
Ordered to strip by his mother, Peter stood in nought but his underwear in the chilly cabin. Receiving a disapproving look from his mother, he slipped the underwear to the floor and stepped out of it. As much as the idea thrilled him, he was afraid it would show.
Marie bunched up the shift and lowered it over Peter’s and let the simple cotton undergarment fall about him. The young lady’s garment made him look even more fragile she mused: This may work yet.
Working quickly, she attached the petticoats, and laced the stay about her child, fussing and adjusting till she was satisfied his foundation garments were perfect. Helping him into the dress itself, she laced the bodice and adjusted the skirts before stepping back to admire her handiwork.
Before her stood a nervous young girl of 16 or 17 in the height of London fashion. She was shocked by how disturbingly pretty her son looked, unnaturally so for a young man. Things were not perfect of course…Naturally his hair would need fixing and a touch of makeup… but she felt a flutter of relief in her heart that the plan might just succeed.
“Darling? Do you feel well?” she enquired of her son, or daughter as seemed more appropriate at that moment.
Peter indeed felt strange. A mixture of signals flooded his body. Was he dreaming? Or was this a nightmare? “I.. Yes mother, The clothes just feel strange.” He answered hoping it would satisfy her.
Marie seated herself on her bed and motioned her child to join her.
”What shall we call you?” she asked, half to herself. The face looking up at her struck her of the paintings of her grandmother in her youth… Abigail Demontford… “Abigail” she mumbled. “Yes, you shall be my daughter Abigail.” She smiled.

”Now no arguing, we have a lot to do and very little time to do it in…” she said sternly. Before reaching into the trunk that contained her cosmetics.

Captain Stevens gripped the telescope in his hand as he watched the pirate vessel approaching on their stern. He did not need its magnification now to see what loomed. They had no hope of reaching port. This would be the time to stand and fight…

”Davis…” he began as the first cannonball flew overhead.

The battle was hard and furious, but within a space of a hour, the crew had surrendered and struck their colours. They were not a military vessel designed to survive prolonged sea battle…. And they were not Marines…
Captain Stevens, wounded in the exchange approached the pirate captain and handed him his sword. In all his days as a captain he had never expected this, but for the good of his passengers, it was his duty. The man before him accepted the blade without word. Looked it over from tip to hilt, before running him through with it. Captain William Stevens Died that day on the deck of his ship. His blood mingling with the timber.

Captain Brand did not relish the cold blooded killing of men, But the execution of a captain was always required to win the obedience of his men. Mercy bread heroes… and heroes were an inconvenience.
“Cooper, Martins, Hart,” he growled beckoning 3 of his junior officers up to him, “Crew, Passengers, and Cargo inventory. Now if you please.” He growled to the 3 men by his side. As the men moved off to their assigned tasks, Brand surveyed the efficiency of his crew. They had been raiding shipping in the Northern Caribbean for near 6 months now, and all together the crew was efficient. Good sailors, and good fighters. He controlled them with an iron hand and kept them in good coin for their loyalty.
Like a large number of his men, Brand was a former navy man disillusioned over time by the distance and desolation. While his values did not extend to property ownership, he despised rape and murder. Brand would raid a ship, take his pick of the cargo and move on: He often found that legends and fear grew more efficiently when there were people to tell of it.

Cooper, Martins and their men finished rounding up the crew and passengers of the English merchantman. Brand walked forwards. And stabbed the bloody sword into the decking by his feet, a rapid method of gaining everyone’s undivided attention he had learned.

As the hubbub subsided and all eyes fell upon him, he spoke in a quiet calm voice. “This ship and all aboard it now belong to myself and my crew. As you can see, some of my boys are a might twitchy, so if we can keep all heroics and dramatics to a minimum, there will be no further bloodshed.” He said plainly “If I get all I want, you may be allowed to go on your way.”

Peter, now Abigail, stood beside his mother on the deck of the ship, half hiding behind her skirts. He was terrified, The pirates were scary and nothing like the stories he had read. The Captain said that if they complied they would be free to go? Maybe his mother’s plan would work?
Peter had spent the hours before the attack with his mother, learning to move, act, and respond as a young woman of stature. Granted, it was by no means perfect, and she wouldn’t pass in the London social circles, but it was enough. His hair was done up in a braid and a slight amount of his mother’s makeup graced his cheeks. Peter felt… amazing. He couldn’t begin to describe the feelings of normality. It was as if he was finally awake after a life of dream. Did he think he was a girl? He wasn’t sure, He certainly felt better than when he wore boys’ clothes, and he wasn’t expected to be something he wasn’t now. Perhaps he was?
Abigail snapped out of her thoughts; Her mother was squeezing her hand tightly. The pirates were going through the passengers, checking them for valuables. Abigail felt her heart beat faster as the men approached them. When the Pirates finally reached them, Abigail wanted to cry with fear; the men looked over him and his mother with a animal hunger and started to grope around their dresses looking for supposed valuables.
A young Officer strode over and punched the pirate touching him in the face.
“You know the captain’s rules Smith, No touching womenfolk.” He growled before glaring at the man who had backed off from Peter’s Mother before turning to the mother and child, “Ladies, my apologies.” He smiled before moving on.
Cargo was offloaded, and a number of passengers and crew were persuaded financially to swap sides.
Marie looked at her child, no, her daughter, she couldn’t think of the angel by her side as her son. This ordeal was nearly over, she prayed that the bastards would leave them and be gone.

Captain Brand looked over the deck at loading operations. It had been a good raid,. 20 tons of powder for the Barbados guns, food supplies and luxuries aplenty… Amongst the passengers, they had secured a surgeon, and a navigator and 20 able bodied men from the crew. He was pleased with himself.
Captain Brand looked down towards his son, Edward Brand, the boy he had raised from a babe, and that would one day be his successor. The boy had taken the name of Martins so as to avoid any relation related issues amongst the crew. He hadn’t wanted it to seem as if his promotions had been based on his blood, rather than his backbone.
The lad was staring into the passengers milling on the deck as he supervised the detail guarding them. What was he looking at?
Brand walked along the helm deck of The Carpathia to get a better view. The boy was transfixed by an angel. The girl was a child, only 16 or 17 years, but a beauty. Brand chuckled. Perhaps he would have to give that son of his a kick start.

Abigail watched the pirates take the ship’s cargo, and begin to withdraw. She looked up at her mother and gave a weak smile, they had made it. If only she could find a way for her mother to allow her to wear this dress again? Oh how she loved the feeling, the caress of the fabric, Perhaps not the tight corset, but the way it squeezed her boyish chest into small mounds pleased her.
“Come here darling” growled a pirate as his fingers closed around Abigail’s arm. Abigail began to panic, and her mother began screaming. The last thing she remembered was someone clamping something over her mouth and nose before being engulfed by a deep blackness.