Read Online Pirate Code by Helen Hollick - Free Book Online Page A

profits here in the Caribbean. Commerce owed much to him. Parliament – the Commons – almost entirely rich merchants, many of whom owned plantations in these colonies, rated Stefan van Overstratten very highly indeed. They would not be pleased to see him bested, especially by a pirate. If siding with Acorne meant losing van Overstratten’s financial patronage, ah, that would be a blow for the Caribbean, for Nassau, and for Rogers personally.
    “The lash is for able-bodied men and convicts, Captain Acorne. Not for sea officers,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “You will be demeaning your rank.”
    “Able-bodied men, convicts and women, Governor. I find the thought of flogging a woman also demeans my rank.”
    Rogers cleared his throat, uncertain whether Acorne was strictly correct in this claim of rights. He searched quickly through the faces to locate Dunwoody; he would know. The man was here somewhere…saw to his disgust how many in the crowd had their hands hovering over the front of or inside their breeches. He pursed his lips, disliking the lewd overtones so clearly displayed in front of him. Damn protocol! He was Governor, he could do as he pleased.
    “It is as he says, Master van Overstratten. It is his right.”
    Alarmed, Tiola squirmed her head around. “Jesamiah, you cannot do this. It is not necessary.”
    “You will not be telling me what I can or cannot do, woman!” He spoke fiercely, adamant, partially through anger, partially through his own doubt. He had never been on the receiving end of a flogging. Had witnessed several, had seen how the lash could cut to the bone; had seen with his own eyes the result of scars carried for life. He swallowed his rising apprehension. It was only twelve lashes. If Tiola said she could endure twelve lashes to the bare skin, then so could he. He settled his body close against her, his legs spread wide to balance himself, arms resting along hers, fingers curling into her hands. His back exposed, not hers.
    Tiola closed her eyes, an initial relief flooding her, distress rapidly over-taking it.
    ~ My lover. The lash cannot harm me, it will hurt and harm you . ~
    Jesamiah ignored her, glanced up at Woodes Rogers. “Tell ‘em to get on with it.”
    The Governor nodded in a signal to proceed, to get this day’s distasteful work done.
    “Wait.” Van Overstratten’s mouth was taut with impotent fury – he might have guessed Acorne would damned interfere somehow. He gestured at the lash held in the Beadle’s hand. “This whip is a single strand intended for a woman’s finer flesh, not a man’s. How can that be justice? I demand a cat be used.”
    Jesamiah swallowed; Tiola felt his body go rigid. He had not bargained on the cat-of-nine tails. Nine strands of knotted cordage, not one. Nine lashes for each delivered blow. One hundred and eight lashes, not twelve.
    “You do not have to do this Jesamiah,” she whispered again. “I cannot be harmed.”
    “Shut up,” he snapped. “I do have to do this.” His anger was a play-act to hide the quiver of fear and the nausea worming into his belly.
    From somewhere, almost instantly, a cat was passed forward; someone must have been holding it, for usually a cat o’nine tails was made by the victim, as part of his punishment a few hours before it was needed.
    The cat. Every sailor’s nightmare, particularly in the Royal Navy where discipline was harsh and adhered to by the book; a wicked punishment used sparingly by a fair captain or frequently by the many devils who were not. Not on a pirate ship; there was rarely a flogging aboard one of the Sweet Trade. When pirates delivered punishment it was judged by the entire crew through democratic discussion. Fines for lesser crimes, or the drudgery of the unpalatable night watch, or scrubbing out the ordure from the heads. For the more serious, marooning – being abandoned on a lonely shore with one keg of water, one pistol and one, solitary, shot.
    The cat.
    “Twelve