Houdini (Part 1)

Most people hate the gritty feeling of sand between their toes, but not Jessica Adams. She loved it. To the annoyance of her mother, she would go for days without washing her feet just so she could make the feeling last a little longer; to her it felt like freedom.

Since her brother died 3 years ago her mother’s over protectiveness had become smothering. Jessica had to give a detailed itinerary of her whereabouts every day. The mobile phone that had been bought for her was barraged with calls and the slightest grazed knee would send her mother into a whirlwind of panic. Jessica switched her mobile off when her friends began to tease her about the calls. She was 12 now; she was more than capable of looking after herself.

Every morning the hour between 5 and 6 was her chance to escape, if only briefly.

It was 5.08am and the sun had just started to rise up, over the sea as she scaled the coarse, green dunes. With her tattered deckchair clamped under one arm, she made her way down towards the shore. The soft sand beneath her bare feet became harder, darker, and clammier as she neared the breaking waves.

At that time the beach was always deserted, just the way she liked it: no one to crowd her space or her thoughts. This was her time. She headed for her usual spot and opened the deckchair beside a wooden post that had once been part of a jetty. Now redundant and alone it was well weathered, black, covered in limpets and draped with deep green seaweed. She sat in peaceful silence looking out to the horizon, listening to the waves rolling and crashing onto the shore. She found the deafening din surprisingly calming; a chance to clear her mind and let her imagination run wild. She closed her eyes and let her head rest back against the chair. What would she be today she thought. Yesterday she was on an oilrig that struck the richest find of oil in the whole world, the day before she was a fisherwoman who caught a legendary octopus in the English Channel, the day before that she was an acclaimed medical professor that had found a cure for the common cold. A wry smile drew on her face as she muttered to herself.
“Yes, perfect, Captain of a pirate ship”

She frowned in concentration as she tried to imagine being aboard a wooden Galleon that creaked with age under foot and reeked of a cocktail of gunpowder, smoke, leather, fish and salty wood. She drifted into a light slumber and suddenly she was there; Aboard La Brisa Del Mar - The Sea Breeze. One of the finest Spanish Galleons of the 18th century; a proud ship that had now been taken over by a band of renegade pirates led by the mercenary, Captain Eleanor Sternglass. Eleanor, upon reaching her 20th year, had already captured and ransacked 17 galleons and was in possession of more gold, silver, jewels, silks and porcelains than any one country could afford. Her name had become notorious across the continents as legends about her told that she could board and pillage any vessel quieter than a whisper and quicker than a gazelle. She was a formidable foe whose supremacy was challenged only by the nefarious Captain Blackfoot.

Few had crossed Blackfoot’s path but all the pirates in the world new of him. He was renowned mostly for the fact that a black stump had replaced his foot after an angry tuna fish had chewed it off. Full of his own self-importance, he thought of himself as the most feared pirate of all, and to show he was no weaker or less callous from his unfortunate encounter, he made sure his onboard reporter documented and publicised every act of callousness. Mercy, to him, was a word for the weak: never given to his foes or even to his crew. His ship, The Destructor, was the one vessel that had eluded Sternglass and she was on a mission to conquer it. It was twice the size of The Sea Breeze and had twice as many guns. By commanding such a ship she would reign as the Queen of the Sea.

The Sea Breeze was made up of 100 comrades who had joined her from other conquered ships. A smart career move, as it turned out for them, for she was particularly fair to those on her side. She looked after her crew considerately, lavishing them with treasures and feasts they would never have seen the likes of if they had returned to their homelands. Onboard they lived victoriously.

One night there had been a storm so violent that by daybreak the crew were still busily restoring order; sweeping the decks, repairing the sails and removing debris. A small scruffy blonde lad entered the Captain’s cabin and stared nervously through the window behind her as she sat at her desk thumbing through an old, tattered book entitled ‘The Diary of Noel Sternglass’, her late brother.
“The Powder Room is dry and secure Captain”
“Thank you, er…” Sternglass replied, feeling slightly embarrassed that she didn’t know his name.
“Leon, Captain”
“Yes, Leon, you’re the new cabin boy, yes,” she said as she stood up and walked towards the window. She clasped her hands behind her back and peered out over the seemingly endless ocean.
“It is a vast ocean on which we sail Leon, with much to acquire and much to lose. This ship would be of little effect if its firepower were dampened. It’d make us vulnerable to attack and we carry much on board that would make us a prime target for other pirates, particularly Blackfoot. He’d give his other foot to get his hands on The Ocean.” She said earnestly.
Leon’s eyes widened. “The Ocean?”
“Yes, Blackfoot has been after it since he learned my brother had passed to me” the captain continued.
“Though what puzzles me…” she added curiously “…is why Blackfoot is so desperate to get it his hands on it. It’s only a stone… its not a jewel or a crystal…its not flawless or even polished, it doesn’t seem to have any material value yet he would rather follow me across the seas in pursuit of it than further his conquests”.
Sternglass looked up at an ashen-faced Leon.
“Are you okay? You look as white as a sheet”
“I…I just need some fresh air, Captain”
“Yes well you’ll get plenty of that round here…and you’d better get your sea legs on as we’re about to set sail”
“Can I ask where we’re heading Captain?”
“Who knows…I’m guided by fate…we’ll go wherever we’re meant to go…and we’ll meet whoever we’re meant to meet.”
“But what about Blackfoot?” Leon blurted.
“If we meet him then that is the way it should be. He will get what he wants provided he offers me The Destructor” the determined tone in her voice showed she meant it.
“You may go about your duties,” she concluded and turned her attention back to the diary. “…And tell the Quartermaster to call me on deck when we’ve left the harbour”