Excerpt from Invictus

Chapter 1

Mary didn't like the thought of certainty. There was something fishy about always being comfortable in your surroundings, always having your feet on solid land. Besides, where was the intrigue?

She licked her lips. They were dry and chapped, raw in places from her picking at them when she became nervous. It was her only tell; the only thing that would betray her as being less than the fearless rigging rat that the rest of the crew knew her as.

She didn’t really have the face of a man, and she knew it, but no one else seemed to notice. Maybe because it was simply the last place they expected to find a twenty year-old girl: working as a sailor, climbing about the riggings on a governor’s vessel. Whatever the reason, she’d been passing herself off as a man since she was young, and nobody realized the difference.

“Mags!” That was how the crew called her. Mary put a hand to her head, squashing her hat back down over the tide of wild, flaming red curls that billowed down her back. She looked up to see the boatswain, Locke, who oversaw the maintenance of the ship and its stores. He was balancing precariously on one of the lower beams of the main mast, his roll of tools under one arm, looking down at her. She was supposed to help him with his inspections of the rigging but had come to the decks to adjust a ripped and tangled shroud.

She held the most dangerous job aboard the ship, that much was certain. While nobody was safe out at sea, the rigging rats like her were the only ones who had to swing and climb thirty yards into the air on narrow, slippery beams while the ship rocked on the waves below. It had never made her nervous though; pirates weren’t afraid of anything but an end to the freedom.

She still considered herself amongst them, in a way. She was now technically privateering, which in her mind equated to about the same thing as piracy, but she wasn’t running amuck of the law as she had been after she’d been forced into joining a pirate crew years prior. Her intention had been with the British military. After she’d signed up (as a man of course), they’d headed for the West Indies, only to have their ship hijacked by pirates. She was young at the time, but she was agile, quick-witted, and could take a beating. She supposed that was why the pirates had included her when they were choosing people to conscript.

She’d been a cabin boy only, like most of the other young things that had been kidnapped by pirates or taken in after running away. She’d worked diligently for them though, and by the time the ship had been captured by the British navy, she’d made her way up to a mate, apprenticing to the ship’s carpenter. After her arrest, she received the King’s pardon and was commissioned to privateer, which only meant she was essentially doing the same things she’d done as a pirate, but with the permission of the government. She’d had practice about the riggings when working under the carpenter, who’d had a bad leg and didn’t like going up into the masts. Quickly, her new crew recognized this and put her in as a rigger.

Now she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. It certainly wasn’t the most prestigious rank aboard the ship, but there was something superior about being able to do a job that most couldn’t or were too scared to undertake; and there was something better still about being on the highest beams, towering over the ship and its crew with the wind blowing in your face. It was like flying.

“Oi!” Locke yelled again. “Get your arse up here and help me!” Locke was one of her oldest friends, and one of the few who could get away with talking to her like that.

Mary tangled her hands into the shroud, a netting of thick rope, and began to climb upward when she saw Locke’s foot slip on one of the wet spars that supported the rigging.

The man went sprawling backwards off the pole, at least fifteen yards above the deck. Mary saw fear flit across his face, and he opened his mouth as if to scream, but it all happened so fast that nothing came out. Below him, a swab looked up and called out a hurried warning to look out, then moved out of Locke’s path to get a good view without being fallen on.

Mary jumped back to the deck, grabbing the shroud and hefting it backward, out and underneath Locke. She braced herself as it caught him, snapping the ropes taut. He fell roughly against the makeshift net and tumbled all the way down to where she held the bottom of it. Panting, he rolled off the shroud and onto the decks, laying flat on his back, his face pale.

“Bloody hell,” said Mary as the swabbies and other deckhands below began hooting at her, bored from the day’s work and excited to have such entertainment offered to them. Locke pushed himself back to his feet.

“That’s a good man, Mags,” he said gratefully, shaking her by her shoulders. “I would’ve been done for.”

“You need to watch where you’re stepping,” Mary said seriously. “I won’t always be there to catch you and your enormous feet.” She cracked a smile at that, and Locke did too.

“There’s reasons the big ones like me aren’t up around the masts,” he said. “The beams won’t keep us up; they like the scrawny sacks of bones like you.”

Mary rubbed her arms self-consciously. She was getting pretty skinny, but then she’d ample have time to fatten up at the local tavern once they docked. Supposedly, they were to arrive at port within the week.

“So Mags, you gonna come help me with this check-over then? I still need to inspect the riggings, you know,” said Locke. He ran a hand anxiously through his thick curls. They were tangled with built up dirt, but then, nobody on the ship was very clean.

“I’ll go up right now,” Mary said. “Maybe you should keep your feet on the ground for today though, eh, Locke?”

He looked more than a little relieved. “Sure thing, Mags. Go on, then.”

She scaled the riggings again, getting ready to answer Locke’s questions and relay back to him what she saw. It was from her perch high up in the masts that she noticed the Brigantine ship fast approaching them, black sails running up, at the same time as the warning cry came from the crow’s nest: “Pirates!”

Mary glanced back down at Locke; for a moment, a shock-stricken look fell across his face, and then it was gone. He looked up at Mary for confirmation, and she nodded. As he cupped his hands around his mouth to relay the cry, she turned to look back at the ship.

“Pirates!”

Mary pulled herself up to the yardarm, peering at the pirate ship approaching. She felt something stirring inside of her when she saw the black sails billowing; a sort of yearning that she hadn’t felt in a long while. It entrapped her, the way the sunlight beamed into the black and was absorbed by it entirely. And something more: the pattern on the sails was a sun-bleached, grinning skull with two swords crossed beneath of it. Mary knew of flags being embroidered with different designs to designate different captains, but she’d never seen a pattern worn on the sails themselves. The picture it made itched at something in her memory.

The ship creaked as the crew sprang to life, trying to turn the beast away from the oncoming pirate vessel. “Hoist the Yellow Jack!” someone shouted. The yellow flag was a warning of yellow fever; it meant there was illness aboard the ship, and possibly could dissuade the pirates from coming nearer.

The quartermaster, whose authority was second only to the captain’s, was on deck bellowing orders. The Master Gunner sprinted up from the main deck to the gunwales, yelling at the powder monkeys, young boys who ran powder for the cannons in battle.

“Mags, you idiot, help me with this damned jack!”

Mary snapped out of her thoughts, turning to see two other riggers with the Yellow Jack. Several sailors pulled ropes from the deck, attempting to hoist the thing while unfurling it. Mary risked a glance back at the Brigantine. She was a beautiful ship, and fast gaining on them, her fore-and-aft sails aloft and propelling them towards the considerably heavier vessel Mary was on. A shiver ran through her body, a sense of anticipation, like the start of something tremendous looming on the horizon. She couldn’t help the way her mouth twitched up at the corners as she swung down from the masts to join the fray.

“That’s enough of that, men!” she shouted. “They’re almost upon us -- the flag will be useless now!”

Don, one of her mates, dropped the heavy fabric and crossed himself. He was sweating like a sinner in church.

“Mags!” shouted Locke. She turned to see him elbowing his way through the sailors toward her.

“Pirates, Locke!” she exclaimed.

As if on cue, a boom filled the air as the pirate ship fired a warning blast from one of their cannons. They were maneuvering to come along broadside.

“I’ve heard stories of that symbol,” he said gravely. “That’s the flag of Calico Jack.”

“Are you sure?” Mary asked. Captain John Rackham, or “Calico Jack,” was a name she knew; a name all sailors knew. He had been terrorizing the English, the French, the Spanish alike for over a year.

“Aye.” Locke shook his head solemnly. Don, who’d been listening, crossed himself again and began praying rapidly in Spanish.

“Well, this’ll be quite an adventure, won’t it, Locke?”

“An adventure?” he repeated incredulously. “Aye, if you think death’s an adventure. ’Cos this’ll be quite the suicide, you’re asking me.”

“MAGS!” the first mate bellowed. She snapped to attention. “INTO THE MASTS WITH THE OTHER RIGGING RATS, YOU FOOL!”

“Looks like I’m needed,” Mary said, eyeing the fast-approaching ship.

“We’ll never outrun ’em,” Locke muttered.

She elbowed him playfully. “That’s where the adventure comes in.” She grabbed a shroud and began scrambling skyward, up along the foremast. The sailors ran frantically around like ants below her. Other riggers swung to and fro, loosening sails and tying off ropes.

“Give me a hand over here!” one of them shouted. She jumped over to the lad, helping him with the fore sail while the first mate continued shouting below. She knew it was futile, though. They’d allowed the Brigantine to get too close; it was a fast vessel and had the dual threat of being well armed. Their merchant vessel-converted-privateering ship would never stand a chance.

Their captain was a coward, a fat man who preferred books to action and spent most of the day reading from the extensive collection he’d brought on board. But perhaps that’s what got Mary the true adventure. The pirates were priming their cannons when he waddled out and gave the word to surrender. The quartermaster scowled, and Mary felt a sour look come over her face as well. Her body had already tensed up, readying itself for a fight. Now, it looked as though there would be none. They would just hand themselves over to the pirates like gutless cowards, praying for mercy.

She might have been killed in a fight, but she had no fear of death. Still, anticipation coiled in her belly as the pirate ship approached, carrying Captain Calico Jack and his men. She licked her lips and jumped down from the boom she’d been standing on, catching herself in the rigging. Locke met her at the upper decks, running a hand over his grimy face.

“So, that’s that,” said Mary. “We’re surrendering.”

“It’s better that way,” said Locke. “No surrender means no quarter. They would’ve killed us all. Maybe now they’ll show us some mercy, let us keep our lives.”

“Tell me honest you weren’t itching for a fight.”

Locke rubbed his hands together and wiped them on his shirt, leaving greasy tracks on the fabric. “Honest? I wasn’t itching for a fight, Mags. Not with Calico Jack. I’m no sort of crazy like you are.”

The pirate vessel had come around. Since the crew had raised the flag to surrender, there’d been no indication that a fight was nearing. It appeared now that they were preparing to board. Mary could see some of their faces now, the pirates: streaked with grime, dark and menacing, most armed to the teeth with cutlasses and two or more flintlock pistols. Some were just standing on the main deck, glowering at the slowly nearing vessel as though their only job was to intimidate Mary’s crew.

“Everyone drop any weapons you have and do not resist!” the captain shouted. “I will negotiate with the sea villains, and we will be unharmed!”

One of the pirate men tensed, the muscles in his arms bulging as he threw something, and the first boarding hook sailed through the air, catching itself in the rigging. A victory cry went up from the pirates, and more hooks came hurtling toward the ship. Mary took a step back as a misguided hook lodged itself in a sailor’s shoulder. He let out a yelp and pitched forward, losing his balance as one of the pirates gave it a tug to see if it was secure. Locke lurched forward, pulling his dagger, and sawed the line loose, leaving the metal hook stuck through the man’s shoulder.

Locke grabbed the man and pulled him back to his feet. “Mags,” he huffed. “A hand?”

But she barely heard him. Her eyes were on the dirty group of men securing the ropes. “They’re coming aboard,” she breathed, eyes wide.

The entire crew had stopped to watch, breathless. There was nothing they could do now but wait.

Chapter 2

The first pirate climbed aboard, clutching a dagger between his teeth, a sash holding three pistols strung over his shoulder. Don backed up straight into Mary, whispering his prayers in Spanish. Then, all at once, a swarm of pirates were spilling over, fanning out across the deck. They immediately made for the crew, pistols and cutlasses at the ready. In accordance with the captain’s orders, the men around Mary raised their hands in surrender and stood still, letting themselves be surrounded. A sun-burned pirate grabbed Mary’s arms roughly and drew his cutlass. She bit her lip and scowled but didn’t fight him. Oh, how she wanted to fight him.

He went for Locke next, pulling them closer to each other. “Don’t move,” the pirate said, as if he could read her thoughts. His breath was hot in Mary’s ear. “We’re awaitin’ on orders from the Cap’n and the Lady.”

Mary started. The Lady? What did that mean?

She had her answer soon enough.

Calico Jack appeared first. He was just as Mary had heard. His skin was tan and weather worn, his cheeks and nose reddened by the sun. A matted black beard straggled down his chin. It ended just at the neck of the flashy shirt he wore, in the calico pattern from which he took his nickname. He launched himself effortlessly over the side of their ship, his boots making a heavy sound as he hit the deck. All his pirate crew stopped to watch reverently as he put his hands on his hips and surveyed the deck before him, posed as though for a portrait. The captain of Mary’s ship, the coward, began to say something, but Calico Jack held up a hand to silence him. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Two slender arms appeared on the side of the boat, and then a smaller figure was hoisting itself upward. Both crews stared as a woman – aye, a woman – pushed herself up and stood, balanced precariously on the edge of the gunwale. This dangerous stance gave her a good vantage point from which she eyed her prize greedily.

“Ah,” the pirate captain growled in a gravelly voice. “There you are.” He held up a hand, and the woman took it, jumping down onto the deck.

“Looks good, Johnny, old boy,” she crowed.

He planted an ugly kiss on her neck, and she laughed. Mary stared, her mouth hanging open. Never had she seen another woman pirate, at least not one who was open with her sex. This then, must be “The Lady.”

“Alright, then!” shouted the woman. “Which one of you useless bilge rats wants to point me toward your smarmy captain?”

“This is him, The Lady,” a pirate called from over by the captain. Mary snorted at the way the man addressed her and was rewarded with a sharp jab in the ribs from her pirate captor’s cutlass. She winced but didn’t cry out.

Mary watched Calico Jack and “The Lady” stroll lazily over to the captain. He cowered before them but cleared his throat and stuck out a hand. “Captain Richard Lakely. I’m prepared to negotiate the terms of our surrender, Mister – eh – Rackam, sir. My crew is already poorly fed and wholly outnumbered. I don’t want to cause any more mayhem than we have to.”

Mary was incensed at this display of submission but said nothing, waiting to see what would happen next. Calico Jack just stared at the captain’s outstretched hand as though it were a particularly troubling sore. Eventually, he stroked a hand over his beard and looked over at The Lady. “Dear?” he asked.

“I think so,” she replied, as though to a silent question.

He nodded and then let out a short, barking laugh, and shook Captain Lakely’s hand heartily. “Well, alright then, old man!” His voice was jovial. He spat a gob of brown saliva on the ground and laughed again, a broad grin cracking his dark face in half. “Let’s negotiate the terms of your surrender!” With his free hand, he reached over to The Lady’s side and yanked the pistol from her hip, then drew back the hammer and planted the barrel between the captain’s eyes.

“I love a good surrender,” said The Lady with relish. “Now here are the terms. Our men will take a quick look-see around your ship. They’ll look, and we’ll see if there’s anything worthwhile to us, got it?” The captain nodded as much as he could with the metal barrel pressed into his forehead. “Now, whatever we see that we want, that’s ours to keep. Whatever we don’t think is worth our time, that’s your share. Sound agreeable, sailor man?” Again, he nodded. “When we’re done here – now this is providing you don’t make a fuss of course – we’ll set you lot afloat, and you’ll sail into the horizon with your life and whatever crew members you have left.”

Calico Jack released his grip on the captain and gave him a long look up and down. After a moment, he poked the pistol into the captain’s belly with an amused look, then shoved The Lady’s weapon back into its holster. He took a step back from the portly man, who looked rather offended, and turned to the crew. “ALRIGHT, MEN!” he bellowed, waving an arm above his head. “LET’S GET THIS VESSEL CLEANED OUT NICE AND TIDY. MOVE IT YA GOOD-FOR-NOTHINGS!”

The man holding Mary immediately shoved her forward, herding her into with a group with her other crewmembers. “Line up here – along the starboard – or be shot!” one pirate was shouting. He waved his pistol about for all to see.

The vessel Mary was on had a small crew, and the pirates outnumbered them three to one. By the time they were all grouped together along the right side of the ship, it was painfully apparent how little of a chance they would’ve stood if they’d fought.

Twenty or so of the pirates stayed, poking and prodding them into line, while others scurried off, presumably to plunder the ship. Mary glanced over and found Calico Jack and The Lady to be in deep conversation, the captain and the quartermaster tied up and sitting at their bootheels.

“Alright, lubberworts!” shouted the same pirate who was waving his pistol around before. He’d sheathed it now and had his burly arms crossed against his chest. “Let’s have a look at you all!” He surveyed them, eyes moving up and down the line. “I want your hats and shirts off, and if you have any special skills, you’d be smart to let us know about ’em!” He grinned maliciously, as though taking great pleasure in imagining what he might do to the useless lads.

The color drained from Mary’s face as she watched the men around her strip their shirts off, realizing she’d be expected to do the same. She couldn’t remove her shirt. If anyone saw beneath the loose fabric to the binding she wore round her chest, they were sure to notice their good old mate Mags had breasts. She eyed Locke, pulling his shirt off next to her, and her breath caught in her throat. No. None of them could know. She’d been playing the part of a boy since she was six years old. She wasn’t about to sacrifice all that now.

So when the pirate lad approached her and grabbed her by her collar, demanding to know why she hadn’t stripped, she knew there was only one thing to do.

She spat a big gob in his face.

“Oi, Mags!” Locke dragged her backward as the pirate sputtered and drew his cutlass. Mary ducked under its swing and kicked him square in the chest. He let out an oomph and stumbled backward. Locke pulled her away again. The rest of her crew seemed bewildered, and stood around in confusion, but the pirates were quickly dissolving into chaos, shouting and shoving and riling each other up. Several pushed toward Mary, who squared her shoulders and prepared for a fight. But the first pirate had righted himself, and he muscled the others out of the way to get at her.

He swung a fist. Mary tried to duck it, but Locke was in her way, and she took the brunt of the blow in her jaw. It knocked her far enough off balance that the pirate could land another punch to her stomach, and then she was on the ground. Locke barreled into her attacker, but two more pirates pulled him away. Mary was in the process of struggling to her feet when the pirate grabbed her again by the shoulders. She put her fists up, wanting to go down fighting. He had his pistol in his hand now and had it cocked when a female voice made them all freeze.

“That’s enough, boys.” The sea of pirates parted to allow The Lady through. She stood, appraising the scene. “Well, well, well,” she cooed. “What do we have here?”

“This little rat spit in my very own face, missus, The Lady.” Mary noticed that the pirate avoided eye contact when talking to her.

“Alright, let him go,” she said. The pirate relinquished Mary immediately. She groaned and stumbled backward a little, and The Lady put a hand on her arm to steady her. “Well aren’t you a ripe young thing,” she said, a smile curving at the edges of her lips. “So you think you want to put up a fight?”

Mary didn’t say anything.

“You got a name?”

When she didn’t answer, she heard Locke saying, “It’s Mark,” from somewhere behind her. His voice sounded muffled, and when she craned her neck to find him, she saw that a pirate had his face pressed into the planks of the deck. “Mark Read.”

“Mark Read. Very well,” said The Lady. She had a thick mane of wild honey-colored hair, bleached at the roots by the sun, the bottom darkened with dirt. “We like a little fight in our crew members, Mark. You have any skills?”

Mary lifted her chin, where a bruise was surely blooming, but still said nothing.

“He does, he does,” said Locke, a pleading in his voice. “He’s a bloody good rigger. You won’t find nobody know his way around the sails like ole Mags. And he was first mate to the carpenter for years – as a pirate. And he’s been working with me, I’m the boatswain on this vessel.”

“You’re the boatswain?” The Lady stroked her chin thoughtfully, as if maybe she’d picked the habit up from her bearded lover. “And you,” she looked back at Mary, “you’re just a little chest full of surprises, aren’t you? You’ve spent time as a pirate before?”

For the first time, Mary spoke. “Aye. Ma’am.” She lowered her chin a little to look the woman in the eye.

“Ah,” said The Lady, as if that answer revealed everything. The smile grew on her face, twisting her mouth. There was something predatory about that smile. “You liked your years of freedom, didn’t you?”

Mary swallowed and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Call me Anne,” she said. “Anne Bonny.”

Title: Invictus

Genre: Teen, YA, Historical Fiction, Fantasy, Romance

Age Range: Teen, Young Adult

Word Count: approx. 4,300 of 60,000 total

Author Name: Olivia Hrubetz

Why your project is a good fit: My project is a full-length novel I'm in the process of editing that mixes fact and fantasy. The background and setup is rooted in historical fact based around the life of a woman pirate, but there is a fantasy twist that adds additional intrigue. There's something in this novel for everyone with elements of history, adventure, magic, and romance; and the plots arc boasts common themes that are relatable to readers of any age.

The hook: "Mary didn't like the thought of certainty. There was something fishy about always being comfortable in your surroundings, always having your feet on solid land. Besides, where was the intrigue?"

Synopsis: When Mary Read's ship is attacked by pirates, she has a choice: join the crew, or die. She comes aboard as the newest member of the Jolly Roger, passing herself off as a man, and expecting to find freedom in a life on the high seas. Instead, she finds much more in the ostentatious Captain John Rackham, his pernicious wife and second in command Anne Bonny, and a strange prisoner with abilites that don't seem entirely natural. As Mary works to prove herself on the ship, she closer to this prisoner, only to find that he knows of the biggest treasure any of them have ever seen. But she must combat her own rising feelings for him in order to take it.

Target Audience: Teen to middle adults with interest in romance, action/adventure, piracy, magic

Your Bio: I am a 23 year old healthcare professional by day, aspiring author by night, who has been writing since I was old enough to hold a pen. I am from the Midwest and graduated with a bachelor's degree in the health sciences (taking as many elective writing courses as possible), but I have since relocated to the East Coast. My hobbies include reading, hiking, arts & crafts (mostly painting and woodburning), and playing with my dog. I have finished three novels and have particular interest in fantasy, adventure, and light romance. My typical writing style has a clear voice and sometimes-sardonic wit, with an authenticity that readers can appreciate.