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“Sorry, did you say ‘husband’?” James croaked.

Pamela bit her lower lip and nodded her head. The flush that the kiss had brought to her cheeks had vanished. The joy that the kiss had brought to her had vanished. She could feel the tears threatening again, and it took all her might to keep them at bay.

 He hates me.

A heavy silence fell over them. James literally felt as if he’d taken a blow to the midsection. She was married? Married? All of these years he’d known her, she’d been married? To whom? And why was she on the Dunder Mifflinia instead of home with her husband? How could she not have told him? Why did she kiss him? His head began to pound with the questions.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t really know.”

“What does that mean?” he prodded.

Pamela merely lifted her shoulders in a shrug, eyes still downcast.

“Do any of the other crewmembers know?” James continued.

“No.”

James just stared at her. He felt as if he were looking at a stranger. Of all the members of the crew, he had thought he was closest to Pamela. He had believed they had a different bond than he had with the other crewmembers–stronger. Didn’t they? He had felt it. Hadn’t he?

He had never intended to stay on the Dunder Mifflinia. The son of a merchant sailor, he had taken the position as first mate merely for the shillings it put in his pocket and the opportunity to see a bit of the world while he was at it. Work was work. God knows, Captain Scott was as inept as the sea was wide, and he probably would either sink the ship or get them all hanged one of these days. But he had grown close with the crew and genuinely cared for them. Especially Pamela. He knew that was the reason he had remained. He had wanted to be close to her. Yet now…

She was married? 

Pamela didn’t know what to do. James had such an odd expression on his face– unreadable really. She searched it hoping to glean some insight into what he was thinking, but there wasn’t the slightest clue. The stretching silence was creating a tangible tension. She prayed he would say something. Anything.

“I should get back to finishing the preparations to leave. I just…” he trailed off. His eyes locked onto hers a last time before he shook his head bitterly and left her alone.

Married?

*******************************************************************

“Sail ho!” Angelina’s voice rang out from the crow’s nest. A few sailors grumbled, but none seemed particularly concerned. Except for Obidiah Schrute, who immediately scrambled up the rigging with his spyglass and peered at the approaching vessel.  

Angelina’s frown tightened. She knew that most of these godless heathens on board were just too stupid to respond to a potential threat to the ship, and this stupidity would probably land them in Davy Jones’ locker before long. But she’d be damned if they’d drag her to the depths along with them. 

As Angelina shouted her warning again, the crew finally began to gather along the starboard side of the ship to get a better look at the approaching ship.

“It doesn’t look to be a French design,” stated Moonface Bernard.

“It’s not painted up all peacocky like those Spanish galleons either,” added Obidiah as he climbed down from his perch.

“I’m not seeing the King’s colors a-mast, so it’s probably not English,” voiced Poncy Howard, the ship’s deck cadet.

“Oh, like you’d know a lot, Poncy. You’re practically still a lubber,” scoffed Obidiah as he snapped his spyglass closed.

Poncy knew he should be offended by Obidiah’s condescending comments. Yet he could barely contain his smile as Obidiah’s beady eyes glared down at him, the right one ringed in black boot polish. He heard a muffled cough-laugh behind him. Turning he saw James quickly avert his eyes.

“Not all English vessels sail under the King’s colors, boy. But that isn’t one of the Navy’s frigates, so, nay, it’s not English.” Obidiah lectured.

“Which leaves one option, then,” James sighed. “Pirate.”

He knew that this could turn out to be a delay they couldn’t afford. A rival ship wasn’t a threat for them─ the Dunder Mifflinia was well-armed and its crew seasoned in battle. Hell, Obidiah and Moonface always seemed to be itching for a good fight. But they only had a small window of opportunity to intercept the Spanish treasure ships. A scuffle with another pirate ship could cause them to miss that. And given their waning amount of gold, they needed to catch those ships. Captain Scott suddenly flew to his side.

“Pirate? No! No, don’t say that unless you know for sure. You wouldn’t want to alarm the, ahem, crew,” Captain Scott ordered. “Do you really think it to be pirate?” he squeaked.

“We’ll see soon enough,” James replied. “Alright, crew! We haven’t the time to waste on this ship. We must make haste to Panama! Be smart about it!” he shouted.

There was suddenly so much activity on the ship that it was hard to keep up. As a precaution, Oscar and Kevin the Seaman followed Obidiah below decks to man the canons. Moonface, Poncy, and Stanley were quickly adjusting the riggings and sails to capture the wind to fuel their hasty departure. Captain Scott scuttled behind James as he reached the helm to begin taking evasive action.

“Hard to starboard, Mr. Halpert,” the Captain ordered.

“That would turn us directly into their path, sir. How about we take her hard to port?”

“Yes, yes, that’s what I meant to say. See it done,” Captain Scott stuttered. The ship groaned as the rudder changed its direction, and the ship began to turn around.

“We need to catch the wind if we hope to outrun them,” James said, his eyes trained on the approaching vessel. “Moonface! Secure the sheets! We need to get windward!”

“Good work, Mr. Halpert. Err, I’ll just go check the maps in my quarters,” Captain Scott said quickly.

Before James could question him, the Captain had made it halfway down the stairs. He heard the slamming of the Captain’s door shortly after.

Pamela quickly picked up her skirts to begin her appointed task. She joined Phyllis and Kelly and the three women made their way below decks to secure the gold and loot. This was a routine measure anytime another ship was seen, as it was important to protect what was theirs. They gathered up the valuables and took them to the galley to hide in the grain barrels, which always proved to be a useful disguise. Pamela chewed on her lip as she stuffed a bit of gold in the grain barrel. An uneasy feeling had settled in her belly. She desperately wanted it to be due to the possibility of a skirmish with the strange ship, but unfortunately she had been experiencing the feeling for two days now. Ever since Royce had appeared and James had discovered the truth about her.

James had not spoken to her since that night in the galley. She had never felt so alone. No shared jokes, no comforting conversations, no smiles that made her stomach flutter. He had carefully avoided being alone with her, she had noticed. She had done this to herself, she understood that. She shouldn’t have hidden the truth. But she had been embarrassed– embarrassed that her husband had cast her aside, embarrassed that she had let him. It had taken everything she could muster to set out on her own, to make a fresh start. She’d always been afraid that someone might make her go back– back to the hovel she had shared with Roy to carve out some pathetic existence until he decided to come home.

“Pamela, are you coming? We better get back up and see what’s happening,” Phyllis said gently, causing Pamela to surface from her deep thought. She shoved the last of the gold under the grain and followed Phyllis and Kelly back up.

**********************************************************

As soon as she stepped out upon the main deck, she knew something was wrong. Everything was too quiet, and the crew was lined up on the deck looking at something. Their weapons were drawn. She squeezed herself between Oscar and Kevin the Seaman to get a better view of what was happening. She gasped when she finally was able to see. The rival pirates were actually aboard the Dunder Mifflinia! She started to ask Oscar how they had managed that feat when she noticed his nose was bleeding. Her eyes traveled over to Moonface who was dabbing at his split lip. Glancing at the other crew, she saw that some were also injured. Had a fight occurred? She was still curious how their ship had been breeched. She quickly figured this wasn’t the best time to inquire about it– she would have to wait until later to get the full accounting.

No one spoke for a long moment. The two opposing crews merely stood there, staring each other down. The only sound was the scratching Obidiah’s sickle-shaped sword made as he drew it against a small sharpening rock he held in his left hand. As James opened his mouth to speak, a rustling drew everyone’s attention to a pile of old sails where an old man appeared to be awakening from a nap. Standing, he stretched his arms above his head, yawned, and proceeded to scratch himself. He bent over, picked up a half-eaten apple, and walked over to the two groups.

“Did we take on some more crew?” Creedles smiled, chomping into his apple.

“Wie zijn u?” barked a stout, middle-age man with a dark-blond scruffy beard.  

James assumed he was the captain as he had spoken first, and by the ridiculous hat perched atop his head. He also assumed, due to the large quantities of spit that flew out of the captain’s mouth when he had spoken in his strange language, that he was Dutch. All he needed on top the thoughts of Pamela plaguing his head were damn Dutch pirates.  

Perfect. 

“Where’s Captain Scott?” Kevin the Seaman whispered to James. 

“I think he locked himself in his cabin,” James replied. 

“That’s just great,” added Stanley. 

“Wie zijn u?” the Dutch captain barked a second time. 

The crew of the Dunder Mifflinia was looking confusedly at one another, not understanding what the captain has asked. Creedles took one last bite of the apple, tossed it over the side of the ship, walked straight up to one of the Dutch pirates and slapped a hand on his shoulder jovially.  

“Wat is het goede woord, broers?” (What’s the good word, brothers?) 

“Bent u de kapitein van dit schip?”(Are you the captain of this ship?) the Dutch captain demanded. 

“Natuurlijk,” (Of course.) Creedles answered. 

“Zeer goed. Bent u bereid om de termijnen te spreken?” (Very good. Are you ready to discuss the terms?) 

“Termijnen van wat?” (Terms of what?)  Creedles wondered. 

“Van ons die controle van dit schip nemen!” (Of me taking control of this ship!) 

“Niet een goed idee. U wilt dit schip niet,” (Not a good idea. You don’t want this ship.) 

“En waarom is dat?” (And why is that?) 

“Ratten.” (Rats.) 

“Wat geven wij om ratten?” (What do we care about rats?) 

“U zult geven om deze. Zij zijn de grootte van pics en geur van mung bonen. ondoordringbaar aan het doden. kan het schip van hen bevrijden niet, ” (You will care about these. They’d be the size of pigs and smell of mung beans. Impervious to killing, too. Can’t rid the ship of them).  

Creedles wrinkled his nose.  

“Ontploffing! In orde, geef ons uw goud,” (Blast! Alright, give us your gold then.)   

“Hebben geen. Wij zijn weg op een looppas om meer te krijgen,” (Don’t have any. We’re off on a run to get more.) 

“Ik geloof u niet,” (I don’t believe you.)  

By this point, the crew of the Dunder Mifflinia was brimming with curiosity as to what the two men were discussing. Obidiah had inched his way behind Creedles and was now hovering over his shoulder, as if a closer proximity would give him the ability to translate the foreign tongue. Moonface’s lips were pursed, his eyes squinting at the Dutch captain trying to discern clues from his facial expressions about what was being discussed.  

Angelina glared at the Dutch, deciding them to be more heathenish than the blaggards she sailed with. These men were overly large and burly. Dirty, too. With their tunics left unbuttoned to the waist and their breeches so indecently tight one could almost make out their… 

Her hand shakily flew to the cross pendant on her necklace as she averted her eyes from that evil sight. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest and her cheeks were burning. She focused back on Creedles and the Dutch captain, blocking out her body’s strange reaction to the ghastly men.

“Hoe ongeveer één van onze fijne wenches?” (How about one of our fine wenches?) Creedles offered.

“Wat? A wench?” (What? A wench?) 

“Neem uw oogst van de partij. Mijn gift aan u.” (Take your pick of the lot. My gift to you.). Creedles motioned towards the women of the crew. 

The captain looked skeptical for a moment, and then his eyes began to roam over the women standing on deck. Phyllis was quickly dismissed. He smiled slightly at Pamela thinking she could be a worthy prize. He visibly shuddered in response to the hatred etched on Angelina’s face, and hoped to God she was barren. The world did not need that lineage to continue, in his opinion. Finally, his gaze landed on Kelly. She reminded him of the exotic women he had seen on his travels to the East Indies, and immediately decided to take her.  

“Wat over inheemse?” (What of the native one?)

 “Zij is kombuiswench. Maakt een erlijk erwtensoep.” (She’s the galley wench. Makes a delicious pea soup.)

The Dutch captain nodded his head, which made the feather on his hat bob around. Their ship could use a good cook, he thought. It had been months since he and his crew had been treated to a decent meal. Their last cook had been kidnapped during a battle, and their stomachs had suffered ever since. A nice galley wench would be a valued addition.

 “Ik waarschuw niettemin u: zij heeft de wench's ziekte,” (I warn you though: she has the wench’s disease.) Creedles interjected. 

“Mijn mensen wensen haar niet om te knoeien met; zij vereisen haar om hen te voeden. Zij zal goed genoeg alleen worden verlaten zolang zij ons gevoed houdt. Ik heb een andere uitbarsting op mijn schip niet nodig,” (My men don’t need her to dally with; they need her to feed them. She’ll be left well enough alone as long as she keeps us fed. I don’t need another outbreak on my ship.)

 Creedles smiled. He would miss her pea soup, but he felt better knowing the galley wench would be left alone by the Dutch. Not that it was his fault she was leaving–someone had to go. And he had made sure as hell it wasn’t him. 

The two men clasped hands. The captain smiled, walked directly up to Kelly, bent, and hoisted her up onto his shoulder like a sack of barley. She let out a squeal of surprise as the other members of the crew gasped. He tossed her to a large, beast of a man who promptly grabbed a rope and swung over to the Dutch ship. The other Dutchmen followed suit, including the captain. They cut the ropes mooring them to the Dunder Mifflinia and the two ships slowly began to drift apart. No one could believe what had just happened.  

“Poncy, save me! Why are you just standing there? James! Help!” Kelly shrieked over the giant’s broad shoulder.  

Poncy opened his mouth as to speak, but just stood there, eyes wide. James knew he should do something, but truth be told, he was really still reeling from the thought that it could have been Pamela who had been taken by the Dutch. Given how quickly it had all happened, it could have been her sailing away from them, in danger and out of reach. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest. He rounded on Creedles, who was waving at the departing ship as if nothing had happened.  

“Creedles, what the hell did you tell the Dutchman? Did you tell him to take Kelly?” James demanded. 

“Of course I did, Jimmy. It was either her or the gold,” Creedles smiled.

“You can’t just trade our crew out! She’s in great danger!” James continued. “Now we have to go after her before they hurt her!” 

“Calm down, Jimmy. You know I wouldn’t want the galley wench hurt. I told them she has the wench’s disease. They won’t touch her in fear of catching it,” Creedles defended. 

“Why did they take her, then?” James pursued. 

“They wanted pea soup.” 

James had no response for that comment. He never really had any response to the things Creedles said. In reality, they had just avoided a catastrophe. They could have held their own against the Dutch pirates, but he didn’t want to risk his crew or their ship for the more important job at hand. Kelly was part of that crew, he knew, but they could find another galley wench. Preferably one with a softer voice. He sighed. The Dutch ship had caught the wind and was now out of their range anyway. He glanced at the still-screaming Kelly, and hoped she understood. Turning his saw Pamela looking at him, questions in her eyes, and he just averted his eyes.  

Just perfect. 

The crew resumed their positions as James attempted to put them back on course towards the Spanish treasure ships. They had avoided a disaster once again. Somehow. And he knew it would be far from the last time they narrowly escaped danger.  

“Het eerlijke varen, Kapitein!” (Fair sailing, Captain!) Creedles belatedly shouted as he waved the Dutch pirates and their new wench goodbye.  

One task at a time, James reminded himself and set the ship’s direction.

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