Bodice Ripper High Sea’s Bound part 1

  Looking down from a birds eye view, if you were soaring high above the slowly rolling sea you would see the wake of the Merchant ship Wyvern bobbing across the calm blue water. For the time and place it was a fairly large maritime vessel containing some 67 souls in all. They were on a heading bound back to the homeland. They were burdened with a few passengers and a full cargo hold, at least the cargo didn't argue incessantly with the captain. However with its bulk it made the ship a slow and ponderous vessel that was not exactly tuned to a rapid turn of speed. It was a nice sunny day, the sailors were using the calm weather to do maintenance on the vessel, to prepare the rigging for the high seas. To stitch the sails to work and worm fresh cord into the gaps between the thread on the main ropes. Then to seal it in place with a wrapping of cheap cloth soaked in pitch. Then to bind to parcel the entire package with twist after twist of pitch soaked thread to keep the rot out of the sail ropes. Such endeavours were a sailors lot, day after day with only a few moments of brief excitement between long hours of tiresome work.

  If you drew closer to the vessel you might see the shuttered window to one of the larger cabins, a double birth. If you could look through that shutter you might see a bored woman sitting in a chair watching the world go by. She would have dearly liked to take some sun and air strolling about upon the deck to stretch her legs, but that was firmly denied to her. Her governess had refused all requests to leave the cabin. It would be effectively her cell for the entirety of the long crossing, not that she didn't at least have a view. The young lady was not in a position to argue, she couldn't even start to raise a disagreement with her overseer as she was well, rather stuck. She was a of marriageable age, a woman of class and beauty poise and elegance. She was also as tightly packaged as the rigging. Bound in very heavy bondage to restrain her rebellious spirit, she was trapped on a very boring voyage to a rather unpalatable fate.

  The lady was reduced to passing the time in the only way she could, sitting there looking out of her window waiting for something to happen. Other than say a glimpse of a porpoise or an island in the distance, so far it had been uneventful. She was technically travelling with a maid, according to the ships manifest and the tickets purchased. But in reality, the woman who shared her cabin had the title of governess. She was a strict sadistic disciplinarian, a Spanish lady of ruthless intensity. She would have had a very pretty face if not for the perpetual cruel scowl plastered upon it, as she considered new ways to keep her charge in line. Elena Torquemada was in her early thirties, she dressed in austere black white and grey, with her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She considered it almost a religious duty to keep the one suffering her tutelage completely under her thumb.

  The cruel jailer was employed principally to keep her charge firmly under wraps. For the time being she was doing an exemplary job. The young woman under her care wore an insidious fully tightened double locked Tinned Chastity belt. It came equipped with a rearward mounted motivational discipline stud of significant size to keep the young lady from any inappropriate behaviour, and it also made her sit up rather straight. The governess had the keys on a chain around her neck, the same keys could be used to release the belt or to corkscrew the rear stud into a more dominating position. This harsh act of domination was done every couple of days, the stud adjusted by a small degree to make her position a little more severe as time went on. A great deal of thought had been put into the young noble lady's rather punishing dress.

  The frustrated damsel looked about as much as she could and gave a pathetic tug against her bonds. She considered her bonds and how to possibly escape from them and her watchful guardian. The bondage started at the most basic level, for the foundation garment of her outfit there was a simple but sturdy shift of stout white linen. It was originally an item much like a long shirt that was typical for pretty much any dress. Her particular one had been made a lot longer at the sleeves and at the hem so that it was practically dragging at her ankles. The exceptionally long sleeves were made of a thicker cloth doubled over and stitched shut making it far harder for her to grasp anything. If she was just wearing that simple garment, it would have been bad enough to be imprisoned in it. Her legs were held together by the long tight hemline which had been reinforced then reinforced again to prevent any attempt at breaking the stitching. To stop her getting out of this garment the maid had used a whip stitch to sew it shut. The entrance to the garment was closed at the back making it quite hard to get out of unassisted. It was as if she had been stitched into an ungainly sack that constricted tightly around her form.

  Over the top of this most humble foundation her maid had laced a crushingly tight mercilessly fitted corset. The suffocating garment cruelly compressed her body from above her hips covering the top of the chastity belt hiding its outline and making it even more uncomfortable. The corset continued rising to just under her arm pits, she could feel her ribs distorting and bending under the pressure. She could barely take a little gasp of air as her lungs were so severely compressed. The corset had been industriously modified to thoroughly punish her for her numerous prior acts of disobedience. It had been extensively altered from the original, cut down on the sides to make it particularly difficult to move in rendering its wearer closer to a statue or a piece of art than a person.

  To make it so very tight and yet to present its occupant in a much more attractive manor, by reshaping her body into a more generous set of curves that were held as rigid as a marble sculpture. The prison that she was compressed within had a very heavy set of laces at the back. The regime required to close the back of the garment, to make the two edges meet was arduous. Half an hour of torment, with long thick leather laces. Half an hour of being strapped hanging to a lacing bar while being relentlessly assaulted by the slowly constricting restraint.

  The garment was so stiff due to the extra boning added to make it particularly horrendous and rigid. The poor thing really suffered all the time she was wearing it, she had difficulty breathing difficulty eating. Then there were a couple of anchor points at the sides of the corset for other parts of the ensemble created to contain the young ladies ardent tantrums. To prevent any tampering the laces at the back of the corset had a flap that covered over them, then an iron hoop with a steel screw pin was wrapped around the waist of the corset to keep it firmly in place. If she was somehow divested of her other restrictions then she would still have had a great deal of trouble removing the garment. Even if she got her fingers free from the sleeves that were stitched shut, she would have needed a special tool and a mirror to release the band holding the corset shut.

  The lovely young lady had long red silk stockings to cover her dainty feet, all the fashion of the time. Over her legs she had another crushing layer of unpalatable fashion that had been altered into a further intolerable restriction. This time a very tight hoop skirt frame, it was positioned under her dress attached to her corset. The peculiar version had been customised with her rather rebellious nature in mind. Normally a hoop skirts support frame was designed to lift a skirt up and give it a certain graceful form, creating a bell shaped body and to provide the support for a bustle. Hers on the other hand seemed to be designed with reinforcements of thick leather. Many heavy straps to hold her legs tightly together, to further restrict her already compressed body.

  Wearing it fully tightened it was as if her legs were inside a net or a sack. She shifted her position slightly. Yes, it felt as if there was a heavy net wrapped around her thighs holding them clamped together. She reflected on the many lectures, it was not considered lady like to have fencing lessons or shooting practice. Her father was full of bunk in her opinion. Though when she had snuck away to partake in those things it was more a symptom than the root cause of the problem. A problem that the various layers of restriction were trying to bring firmly to hand.

  She had fashionable heels in the latest French style, well the latest style to make it all the way out to the other side of the world. Still they came with a platform composed from, a wooden support with a leather sole, and pointy toes. They gave her a little extra height and sculpted her legs quite nicely. They were dainty things for her feet, pretty things to match her dress. Yet they were one additional inconvenience making it a little harder to walk and move. Tied onto her ankles with a few twists of leather thong so they couldn't slip away. Held right where she couldn't reach them, that was if she had the use of her hands at all. She objected far more strongly to the other ankle bracelets that she had been gifted with, meant to ensure that she didn't somehow wander. She detested the bronze cuffs that locked her feet together. The ones that were attached to a length of chain that was in turn attached to what looked like a large cannon ball. It was apparently one half of a piece of chain shot according to what her governess had said. It was a slow painful shuffle to get anywhere, not that she was allowed to go anywhere other than the cabin. So it was really just an extra piece of unnecessary sadism from her cruel governess to emphasise her totally helpless predicament.

  She was forced to dress as if she was due at a formal engagement. Perhaps it was so that she became used to a life of perpetual restriction, both social and physical. She wore many layers of skirts, as well as a frilly petticoat to hide the unhelpful restricting hoop skirt. Piled upon all the rest of it she had a dress that was meant to be the height of style of the time. Well the time that a merchant purchased it and put it on a ship at least, before they sent it out to the other side of the world. Still there was nothing like bringing the dispatch post with the prints and engravings telling the distant colonial cousins of the latest styles of the capital. While at the same time having a selection of such garments with you. If you were a merchant with an interest in such things it was a winning proposition.

  This particular dress was a prestigious Viennese import, a long trained skirt made from a bounty of fabric. It would have been halfway practical on the continent with a few servants in tow to manage its train, sweeping down the floor of a grand hall or up a flight of marble stairs. But out in the colonies where it was far more provincial there were concessions, where fashion had to submit to a degree of practicality. In this case with the fabric train from the skirt pinned back onto the garment, to keep it out of the way and create a flair around the hips delightfully emphasising them.

  The perturbed prisoner shifted about uneasy, it was truly a heavy weight of tightly pleated fabric. A garment that by its very weight pinned her down in place, no wonder so many ladies fainted. The average pack mule had a less arduous burden than this. It was meant to be worn from the carriage to the hall for a grand entrance and practically for little more. The train from this particular skirt was uniquely modified in such a fashion that it could be wrapped around the poor girl. For example to say keep her seated in her chair at the table. This unique fashion innovation was to understate the sentiment of its occupant, not particularly appreciated at all. The layering effect was taken to extreme levels that were in no way comfortable for a long voyage.

  A splash of white showed at the peripheries of her outfit, she had a chemise that was rather heavily reinforced. It buttoned up at the back with two rows of large buttons. It had long narrow sleeves that also had the fingers sewn tightly shut. Not that her fingers would ever reach the ends of these sleeves, they had been made so long that was all but impossible. They came with even more lacing so that her arms could be crossed tightly in front of her body. Held under her bust, then the ends of the sleeves could be secured behind her in such a way that every tiny bit of slack could be worked from the garment. This arrangement would be laced and strapped until she had no room to wiggle her arms. Tightened to the point where she could positively feel her ribs being crushed even on-top of the other odorous restrictions imposed upon her body.

  Her bodice was also rather unique, that particular characteristic being uniquely restrictive. It was designed to be worn without any sleeves or hint of her arms at all. Made as if she were a dress manikin or had suffered a crippling injury. It was very effective in helping to pin her arms to her chest, keeping them out of the way. Even erasing a good portion of their outline, so it was as if she had no arms at all. It completely covered her shoulders just leaving a plunging section of her neckline visible, until her feminine charms were almost ready to spill free. Under immense pressure from the garment they were billowing like a pair of sails caught in a roaring gale. The garment was reinforced as was every other layer of her clothing in ways both sadistic and petty. Her governess would enjoy lacing and buttoning and then tying it all with straps at the back very securely. Its outer most layer was made of a lovely fabric with embroidered silk accents, as pretty and decorative as it was secure and punishing.

  The restraints were not actually that noticeable, especially when a red and orange demi cape was draped over her shoulders. With the solid brass clasp securely fastened at the front, then it was practically impossible to see that her arms were so strictly confined. Her limbs might have just been under the outer garment for all that anyone else could see, unless they were practically standing on-top of her. There was no ascorbic comment or cry for help, the poor damsels mouth was completely stuffed with a large quantity of silk. Then a rather harsh leather muzzle with a wooden plug was pulled tightly over her pouting lips, wedging the packing even deeper. Then a long silk scarf would be added on-top wound to cover everything over. A decorated leather stock was at her throat, looking like some sort of peculiar ornamentation. A broad strap around her neck forcing her head to stay upright and limiting her breathing even further.

  With the hood up on the demi cape it was very hard to see that the poor young lady was bound and silenced. It just looked like someone with a hood and a scarf. A bit odd for the tropical regions, but then there were some eccentric people who wanted to avoid the weather. Primarily the beating sun burning their skin at all costs. And yet some others dressed as they did in the home country, steadfastly clinging to the highly impractical modes of dress that they felt there rank demanded. So even placed next to other ladies of-similar rank many of them would be bundled up in fashionable layers. Only able to stand in the heat with a servant fanning them, as there stays practically propped them up. All the while they were hanging from the arm of a far more practically dressed gentleman.

  The poor young darling rather detested her nightwear, she had a similar shift to her daywear. However for a start to the indignities the bed was specially made. Her feet would be locked into a set of leather lined stocks at the foot of the bed, leaving her very little room to manoeuvre. Her head was always imprisoned in a tight wet moulded leather hood that only had two small holes for her to breathe out of. It was hot sweaty and claustrophobic and each time it was put on the poor girl would swear that the insidious contraption grew somehow tighter. Her governess was a devil for tight-lacing the punitive device until it was as tight as a second skin. Her arms were similarly kept out of the way immobile, so she had no opportunity to contemplate escape. Laced into some sort of insidious leather single-sleeve binder mono-glove that held her arms in place palms together. It would squeeze the flesh in her arms with her elbows pressed tightly together. She was sleeping in it every night without fail. Not a day with a reprieve for months on end, it was to say the least unappreciated.

  Her maid, her jailer seemed to really hate her! Or really love to punish her, it was effectively the same thing. The damsel fumed as she recalled the merciless spankings with the paddle, the force-feeding with the funnel gag. The fact her maid dared to take liberties with her nubile body when she was tied up and being sponge bathed naked, when she had no ability to resist. The use of all the leather straps wrapped around her body to ensure that she had the correct posture at the table, strapped uncomfortably to her chair. From crown to toe it was all intolerable, but what chance did she have to escape from her jailer? And even if she did where could she go, the boat was already chartered its inevitable course set.

  Yet the mood of the crew started to change, as if there was a darkening shadow slowly encroaching upon them. It was as if the last twilight was setting, yet it was day. As if unspoken they sensed the foreboding dread that was encroaching upon them. They stopped their repair work on the rigging and began to stand idle. The sky seemed to darken the world lost its lustre and the light dimmed. At first it was a tiny speck, a mirage in the spy glass upon the curve of the distant sea. Then it grew larger and larger, an ominous ship could just be seen over the horizon. The merchant ship had ten guns upon it and a crew of stout sailors. They might be able to repel a couple of sloops or even a lightly manned brig if it came to a fight. But this was something else, larger than most frigates. What they saw was there doom. Slowly a red flag with a white skull and cross bones upon it was raised high, the flag seemed more visible than the ship somehow. As it got nearer they could see that the ship was quite formidable, at around 120 feet in length.

  By no means was it a first class ship of the line, but it was still very impressive especially around these islands. It appeared to be around 400 to 500 tons maybe easily three times the weight of the merchantman it was hunting. Its sails were only halfway unfurled and as it got to within full sight of the merchant-ship the sales were unfurled all the way. The ship was accelerating towards them as if the hounds of hell itself were dragging it forwards, as if Beelzebub had whipped up a wind to bolster its sails. The crew were nervous as there appeared to be a good 40 cannons on the encroaching ship, with its full rigging they stood no chance of outrunning the larger pirate vessel and a laughably small chance of outfighting it.

  Then to further sink the morale of the onlooking sailors another line of gun ports opened lower down on the ship and some rather larger guns were wheeled into place. A quick count and that number rose quickly to 60 cannons against their ten. The lower decks had what must have been 20 heavy long 24 pound guns, cast from iron. The upper decks had 40 in number 12 pound guns, made of shining brass. The crew onboard the merchant ship started to really sweat as they could see another 20 swivel guns being mounted on the railings on the ship approaching them. Each sailor could feel there will receding, their bravery dying in their chest as nervous fear racked them. The line of the pirate ship was built in such a way that there was protection for the gun crews to reload and fire. The way that the gun crews that they could see moved was very regimented highly drilled very practised, as opposed to the sailors in the ship against them.

  In the very centre of the pirate ships deck was a battery of four huge brass mortars, each mounted on a rotating set of blocks. The hollow balls that they used as ammunition would be some 40 pounds each, filled with scrap and powder. When they struck there target, if they hit the mark then they would be devastating. The ship was better suited with this armament to bombarding a fort, they would still tear through the decks of an enemy ship with casual ease, if they hit even remotely on target. As the ship got closer the sailors could see the figure head on the pirate vessel appeared to be a red and black winged demon reaching forwards with a grasping twisted clawed hand. The crew of the enemy ship might have numbered 150 even 200 perhaps considerably more. The merchant-ship stood no chance and they knew it.

  The sailor up in the crow’s nest looked on agape at the encroaching pirate vessel. He looked and he barely believed what his wretched eyes saw. Lanterns glowing with an evil green light were scattered around the ship giving an ominous air to the encroaching enemy. The castle on the ship looked to be rather substantial with a double cabin height to it. From the enemy ships castle crows nests and forecastle sharp shooters were priming there wheel lock rifles. ready for a pitched battle ready to shoot their opponents to pieces. The sailor could see that next to the swivel guns behind the protection of the thick wooden structure boarding parties were preparing to invade the merchant-ship. A good number of men with red sashes were ready to sweep the deck clean of resistance with blunderbusses and volley guns. Then behind them were men with grappling hooks to drag the ships together. Behind them were pirates prepared to fight with boarding hatchets and cutlasses. The marauders were carrying braces of pistols ready should any oppose them, then it would be there last mistake.

  Hannah Stuart was the name of the poor damsel held within the cabin, she couldn't see the enemy vessel from her current vantage point lashed to a high backed chair. But she could quite easily tell that something was terribly wrong. She closed her eyes and started reminiscing about what cruel series of events had ended up landing her on this cursed ship in her current rather dire situation. She could hear the sailors whisper pirate and she certainly knew they would consider her as part of the plunder. She was the daughter of the owner of the reasonably profitable fair tree plantation. The wealthy owner Matthew Stuart, produced tobacco and sugar or at least the lands he owned did. There was more sugar than tobacco in the cargo but you didn't want to bet everything on one crop. They lived near the small port on the island, it was a convenient arrangement to ship the harvest.

  The plantation owner, her dearest father. He had decided to make arrangements for her marriage, pretty much selling off his young fair very attractive daughter to the richest old noble in the area. As if she was a crop that had ripened ready to be plucked from the vine and brought to market, sold to the highest bidder. She was to wed the local governor, a mutually beneficial arrangement that mainly went ahead for a string of political favours that would greatly benefit her father. Hannah had previously been wooed by the tall and slightly dull Barnabas Teach, the aspiring son of a shipping merchant, he ran some of the family business from a little dock on the port. They were in love, but it was apparently not fated to be. She yearned for his touch, his arms around her shoulder, his eyes staring into hers. She was not interested in some poppycock prancer in a powdered wig and certainly not some unwashed pirate.

  She was abruptly separated from her true love by her father, Barnabas was forbidden from seeing her again. Her father was thinking in a cold calculating way, that the governor with his myriad of political connections. Would be a far better bet than whatever trade agreements the mild mannered merchant son might aid him with. He should have checked a little deeper to see exactly how many trade routes the merchant ran. How many ships flew the flag and how many contracts the family had. His daughter would be forced to marry according to his will, hitched to the person of his choice the grand Governor Morgan Trelawny. 

  When originally informed of her new prospects she had refused politely. She continued her objections as she had her eye on the young merchant to be her fiancé. Then when her father still rudely insisted on the union with the governor, well she threw something breakable at her father. Her governess had punished her with the crop. Her father had from then on left it to his juniors to convey his messages. When her father’s steward had turned up to go over the details for the marriage. She had slipped the tight rope bindings holding her arms behind her back at the wrist and elbow. She had thrown something really expensive at him in place of her father. Her governess had doubled up her bindings and then punished her with the paddle in retaliation.

  When the Governors pompous over stuffed emissary turned up her anger really flared. It was a messenger with gifts and poorly punctuated poetry. He had come from the governor to give her a tedious recital. Well she had managed to wiggle out of the leather straps holding her arms pinned behind her back and the mittens over her fingers while she was pretending to listen. She subsequently threw the gifts out the window shattering them. Then she hurled something practically priceless at the messenger himself. She got his wig but missed the messenger. He departed before she could finish loading her father’s hunting musket, which she recovered from above the mantelpiece. 

  Her governess had strung her up by her thumbs, leaving her balancing on her tiptoes.  Elena punished her with the cane, 20 strokes to really sink the message in. When the governor himself turned up, well all the expensive items had been removed from the area. The poor little flower had been shackled hand and foot, her arms locked behind her to prevent any-more nonsense. To prevent any outbursts she had been gifted with a rather sadistic gag. Made from a large quantity of rough hemp stuffed into her mouth, combined with a ten foot wrap of linen by her governess drawn over her cheeks, knotted behind her head so tightly it had almost drawn blood.

  He started off with some poetry and Hannah wished that it was her ears that were covered not her mouth. Though thoroughly mute She still managed to use a broach pin to slip her other bonds. Without anything breakable to hand she had to settle for something very heavy instead. She had a good eye and good aim, the governor was caught by surprise and was not particularly fast to react. Much to his detriment in the end his attempts at romance resulted in a painful bruise and a ringing concussion. For her efforts Hannah was punished, rather extensively by her governess. Giving the gag a vigorous testing, which it passed with flying colours. Then after some deliberation between her father and her future husband she was bundled up to be sent back to the old country in disgrace. To be taken to an appropriate institution that would correct her errant behaviour. Then they would send a suitably conditioned appropriate supplicant well behaved woman back to be the governors prim and proper wife. Her governess would remain on staff to keep her on a very tight leash, literally not figuratively.

  Back to the pressing matters of the present, she was broken out of reflecting on her bitter memories. There was the bosun's whistle shouting and the ships bells ringing as something exciting or terrifying was happening. Due to her particular wardrobe's considerable restrictions, she couldn't take much of an active part or make further enquiries. As the pirates got closer she could see something out of the window. The merchant ships crew put out every inch of sail to try and outrun there pursuer, as futile as that was. They could see the bloody jolly roger, red blood and white bones. The imminent promise of the violation and sacrifice of their lives growing closer. Upon the pirate ship there were also red and black flags flying from the rigging, they looked like devils dancing in the wind. There were braziers burning on the ships deck, evil looking red and green smoke was rising up from them. As the ship grew closer the smell of sulphur and other unspeakable vileness intensified.

  The sailors and passengers could hear the pirate crew and wished that they couldn't. There was the beat of drums and they were chanting something most distressing to the ear. The more you heard of the chanting the less you wanted to. It sounded like some evil demonic tongue, a curse a hex upon any who heard it, the sound was an assault against decency and society. A merchant crewman murmured by the window within earshot of the cabin,
    “The dread pirate Lord Blood, with his ship the Devils Due”. Their hearts sank further at any chance of outmanoeuvring the pursuing ship. Or even finding an island with shallow water that the larger ship would not dare to sail into, for risk of being beached. As from behind the Devils Due there came a small frigate with some 36 guns, it flew the same flag. The ship was identified by the same crewman as,    
    “Hopes ruination”. One of a pirate fleet, they couldn't out run or outmanoeuvre there pursuers.

  She could hear the ships panicking officers discussing the situation in trembling tones near to her cabin.
    “He seems to come out of thin air, the dire pirate known as Blood. It is said that he is immortal, that he cannot die. They say enchantments and satanic rights protect him. He cannot fall in battle, and even age will not take him. Some say he still looks the same as he did 20 years ago or even 50 years ago. The march of time cannot wither him, nor leave a mark”. The next voice was quivering its owner shaking,
    “I truly thought he was a ghost story. They say his mother was a witch and his farther the devil”. A younger man panicked,
    “You see that the flag, skull and crossbones on a sea of red. His crew wear red sashes for the blood they spill. They say he has an elite guard who follow him unwaveringly, the devils chosen men. They wear black hoods sometimes called the hanged men. It depends on the telling, some say that they are each criminals who wouldn't hang, who were to stubborn to submit to the hangman's noose. According to other rumours each one of them was hanged dead, then well the dread pirate he called them to his service, pulled their souls up from hell. They each wear the rope that they were hanged with as a belt the noose wrapped as a holder for their sword scabbard”.

  Another nervous man chimed in,
    “His ship is a bloody monster absolutely massive, the 'Devils Due', what a name to have. They say he has an alter there in his cabin. A black obsidian slab, something profane that contains such evil power. They whisper that the ghosts of all the sailors on all the ships he has sunk to the bottom of the sea are bound to the timbers of his ship. That there agonizing wails are ever filling the sails of his ship with wind and suffering. They say that he summons succubus incubus and cavorts the night away with the pleasure of the flesh. Woe betide any fair lady that his hand should find. Poor thing she will not be seen again, sacrificed to his evil carnal desires”. One man was ready to drop his sword on the spot,
    “They say that to fight him gives him an excuse to claim your very soul. Should he win, and what man can fight the son of Satan”!

  Another sailor joined in,
    “Captain Blood, or should that be commodore, he supposedly has a fleet behind him. You can see one next to his flagship, ‘Hopes Ruination’. By my understanding there is at least another ship of note in his service. Around 28 guns apparently the ‘Wailing Witch’. So named after his dear mother”. The bosun trembled,
    “Forget that, we don't stand a chance against just his hexed flag ship, there are more than 50 guns including the mortars. They alone could shred us. He has a big crew, we don't stand a chance, if they were to board. What is it four five to one perhaps even worse odds. We run at full sail and that is not enough to save our souls, we be dammed we be ruined”.

  Hannah felt an icy hand crawling up her spine, she tried to pull at her bonds. But despite her desperate fear she was firmly lashed in place, unable to offer up resistance to her fate. She looked on as the ship loomed closer, getting larger and larger. The crews discussion was terrifying, there were lots of unsettling elements starting to get to her. She could see what looked like men hung from the side of the ship, hung from the rigging swinging forlornly in the wind. She felt herself trying to swallow her muffling gag in panic, almost choking. There was an unnatural haze about the encroaching ship some shaking supernatural element creeping through her psyche. Some of the sails had a red tint to them as if they were washed in blood. The figure head looked like the devil himself reaching up from hell. She swore as it got closer the figure head reached for her, the hands grasping forwards. She was not one for irrational fear, but she still started to scream into her gag completely and utterly terrified.

  The dire pirate blood was about to attack the ship, there was no way that they could out run him as moment by moment the enemy got closer. The pirate had satanic overtones resonating through the boards of his ship, he reeked of evil and witchcraft. To fight him was to invite death and his ship was well prepared to deliver. The crew were already starting to talk about surrender. About giving up and handing over the cargo and hoping that he left satisfied with just that. They were scared, the crew had lost all spirit all hope. Some of them loaded there flintlocks some prayed. She had a feeling that he would soon take the ship and have his menacing villainous hands on her helpless body. It gave her a little comfort as wicked a thought as it was. That her darling governess would fall to the same fate that she did, whatever that would be. She wanted a pistol or a cutlass, hell at this point she would be happy to have an arm free and even as much as a salad fork to defend herself with. As opposed to her current impervious restrictions.

  A booming voice, dripping with sinister intent bridged the gap between the two ships. She wanted to reach out and clutch a cross or a bible to her bosom, upon hearing that malicious sinister voice,
    “I am the dire pirate lord Blood. My father is the devil himself and my mother tis a witch. I am immortal ye cannot win, if ye resist. Well merrily I will take your lives and your souls for my father. If ye surrender then I will mealy take a few of ye to sacrifice in offering and a fitting tribute of your cargo and worldly possessions for my cause”.

Bodice Ripper High Sea’s Bound part 2

  The two ships grew closer, a losing battle for the wyvern to escape. And finally at a certain distance Hanna could set eyes on the pirate captain. He was dressed in a massive dark red overcoat with lots of gold trim, it seemed to flutter behind him a massive bulk of fabric, almost as if it would sprout into a pair of bats wings at any moment. He had a big three cornered hat that had a fortune of trim embroidered upon it. A red crimson mask covered his face showing just his eyes, they seemed to burn like coals. He had a big red beard that appeared to be full of satanic adornments with gold rings and bones and hex charms black bead woven into it. There were lots of burning wicks trailing from his hat and beard a green smouldering smoke could be seen coming from the collection. As he walked there was a rattling like bones and chains, the ships decks creaked below the tread of their master.

  He was fearsomely armed, he carried a pair of ornate wicked cutlasses, they were jewelled at the hilt and scabbard wrapped and brass capped, the pick of the plunder from countless victories. Behind the cutlasses on his belt were a pair of sharp boarding axes waiting to be unleashed. There sharp heads in black leather sheaths there hilts silvered and wrapped in jewel wire. He had a series of throwing knives on his belt behind the hatchets. All of them were close to hand, ready to draw blood and take a life. He had an ornate baldric across his chest, a big brace of six pistols. Each of which was judging from the shape double barrelled, finely engraved gilded and silvered. There was a double chambered musket or rifle slung over his shoulder, should he need a bit of range. Each weapon was there ready, he walked the ship like he owned the world. There was curling smoke and deep base drumming filling the merchant crews senses, filling their minds with terror. As they got closer the sulphate was intolerable, truly terrifying the men who were pacing up and down the decks.

  No one resisted at all as the ships came along side. Not a shot or curse came between the two ships, it was like a lamb that was next to a wolf, not willing to stir it into action. No one moved to cut a line as the grappling hooks were thrown over and the pirate crew pulled the two ships into an unwanted embrace. The pirate captain was bold arrogant, leading his own boarding party with a dozen of the black hooded men one step behind him. Each silent sentinel was carrying a huge single bladed axe, like a headsman's axe. They moved as one in a disconcerting jinked janked twitching manner. Almost as if they were puppets animated by another's will. One lone sailor who was shaking in his boots seemed to be moving on the deck of the merchant-ship. The rest of the crew were transfixed to the spot.

  The gangplank was lowered, the two ships were of differing heights. The pirate stepped onboard the ship to claim his prize, anything he wanted. The nervous sailor stood up from behind a barrel, he levelled his pistol at the pirate captain who laughed and made a gesture a raised hand for his own crew to stand back. He stood there bold as brass daring the shaking man to fire at him. The sailor had to grasp the pistol with both hands to steady it. His courage flagging he still pulled the trigger, the hammer landed and the flint ignited the powder. The pirate captain seemed to lurch forwards for a moment, then he straightened out as if not even a speck of grit had hit him and he laughed. A sound like the grave itself was opening to drag you into its cold embrace. He made a big show of being unharmed after being shot during the boarding action. He had seemingly no fear not even flinching. The sailor dropped the empty pistol then dropped to his knees and started praying. His prayers seemed to go unanswered as the demonic pirates full attention was now upon him.

  The pirate extended his right hand and snapped his fingers, it sounded like a thunder clap in the silence that had settled over the ship. Hannah didn't breathe as a green flame started to burn in the palm of the pirates hand. The merchant crew took a step back. The fire grew larger and larger and crackled and sizzled, the pirate hurled it at the kneeling crewman. Hannah could not believe it, the man was a sorcerer a warlock able to conjure the flames of hell to his hand. He threw the glowing green fire ball onto the deck of the ship at the cowering begging man. There was a blinding explosion of light with little flashes of silver and screams of soul shredding terror. 

  When it was over everyone was on their knees or prostrate begging for their lives. That or piling up any little wealth they had, offering it up in exchange for their meagre lives, to the devil that walked upon the ship. Some had all but lost their whit in fear, some had lost control of their bladders staining the deck below them. The pirate gave a blood curdling laugh, that sent these people into even more of a frenzy. Getting every single one of them begging for their lives and their souls. They would soon see what mercy this sea devil had.

  The simple crew man who was hit with the fire ball, he was still alive laid out on the deck. He started to writhe about screaming as if demons were running razor sharp claws through his very soul. The pirate captain walked over to him,
    “Ye defied me, an now I will have my due. I claim your soul, by resisting ye gambled your eternity and now what you were is mine”. He started to make a few gestures over the man, clapping his hands together green and purple smoke suddenly started coming from the palms of his hands wafting up over the deck. The people the crew and passengers looked on transfixed. He began to chant in a black tongue, making a big show out of taking the soul of the man who dared to take a pot shot at him. He raised his hands this way and that and the man on the deck started to thrash about violently as if his spasming and shaking would shatter his bones and snap his tendons. It was as if molten led was being poured into the marrow of his bones. As if his blood was being cooked at boiling point in his veins. Finally he breathed his last, a gasping agonised hissing rattle and crumpled to the deck his essence snuffed out, all resistance used up.

  The pirate walked over to him, kicked the sailor with his boot. There was no reaction only dead flesh lay there. He seemed to reach down past the physical into the man and seized hold of something that was seemingly invisible and yet solid to his grip. Whatever it was it seemed to try and struggle free to tear away from his grasp, he muttered,
    “Mine”, it was as if he was reaching for a golden coin dropped into the sea, he pulled with all his might. The Devil pirate was claiming something from within the now spent body. He moved bracing himself as if he was hauling an invisible line or catching a large fish on a hook. Several people started to shake and shiver at the sight of the man's very soul being harvested, ripped from his cold dead flesh. All that he was, was being dragged from his mortal remains. The pirate seemed to win the contest then as he held something ethereal in his hands he went to twist and fold something in his fingers rolling and crushing it. Then he was tucking it away into a flask corking it, the flask disappeared into his jacket his bounty secured.

  The pirate blood looked at the body at his feet, as if he was weighing some scale-in his head,
    “I will take all that you were in this life as well”. He removed a collection of chicken bones wrapped together with leather strips from inside his long coat as well as a red sash. He rattled the bones over the top of the body and then pressed them to the corpse's forehead. There was another flicker of green smoke from his hands. The body below him started to twitch, it moved in a most unnatural way as it sat upright. There was a hollow waxy sunken quality to the body that rose. It was lacking some fundamental indefatigable part of it that made it a man. Several of the merchant crew passed out as their former comrade lurched to his feet. The captain handed over the red sash to his new recruit,
    “You are pressed for a decades service, until your flesh rot from your bones”. The pirate crew wordlessly moved out of the way to let the latest addition to their ranks step aboard the devils due. A deathly chill fell through the merchant crew, would they be next to be press ganged by the devil?

  The dire pirate drew one of his cutlasses and held it aloft, the blade was black and wickedly crewel. A spark of flame started at the bottom of the sword at the hilt and travelled to its tip. Making the captive crew take another step back in fear. The dire pirate loudly proclaimed,
    “Now offer the pirate blood fitting tribute, or join him that has just fallen”. The wealth of the ship was desperately cast at his feet in moments. The pirate crew quickly put the ship’s crew to work unloading their own cargo into the pirates hold. During this process Hannah's cruel governess was found hiding in a barrel below deck. She was terrified as she was taken from the ships hold, dragged along by the pirate crew, and presented to the dread pirate. He looked her up and down then proclaimed,
    “A fitting sacrifice. Take her and all her belongings, they should provide some entertainment for the voyage ahead”. The governess was bound in thick strong rope until she looked more like a capstan wrapped in mooring rope. In a twist of irony the harsh hood she used upon Hannah was put to good use to bind her up and gag her instead.

  The pirate crew checked the passenger cabins for any valuables, Hannah knew she would soon be found. She had been left to her fate by her governess, who had abandoned her charge. Had left her bound like a bundle of cargo. The least she could have done was to untie her from the chair, have the charity to free her hands and give her a pistol. She heard the clattering noise from the search as anything of value was taken. She held her breath one minute two minutes, they were checking the captain's cabin. After that they would find Hannah and she feared her heart would stop. The door to her cabin was pushed open, there was one man who looked both awake and alive bearing a red sash. Behind him were two others that looked, well decidedly less so barely aware of what they were doing, apparently mealy corpses that were pressed into service.

  He stopped and stared, finding the strange state Hannah was in to be a stumbling block to recovering the booty. He took a few moments to work out how to unpackaged this particular piece of plunder. In the end she was dragged away while still strapped to the chair she was sitting in. The ball and chain latched to her ankles being dragged behind her. She blinked as she was pulled out onto the deck. The dread pirate reeked of rum sulphate and gunpowder, he looked her up and down his eyes staring into her soul,
    “Yes, she make a good sacrifice”.

  He drew closer grinning,
    “Remove the gag from this little barracuda’s sweet lips”, her eyes were full of fire and defiance.
    “Oh god, I'm in a ghost story, why don't you jump overboard and haunt the bottom of the sea. If you try to sacrifice me you will regret it. Why don't you unwrap me first and we can see if you really can’t die”? The pirate seemed quite amused by the defiant but bound lassie. However his patience had its limits. There was a lot of struggling as the gag went back in and was equally tightly secured. They dragged the rest of her possessions and baggage out of her cabin. She was carried like cargo, back onto the pirates ship. The most valuable cargo including Hannah was loaded onto the Devils Due. Then the merchant-ship wyvern was left bereft of wealth cargo, one crewman and two passengers to scamper away. Hannah watched in despair as the ship sailed away. Then she was finally released from her seated position to be dragged half hopping half being carried into the pirate captain's cabin, the ball and chain still dragging behind her!

  The door slammed shut, a creaking ominous thing that reverberated through the cabin. She blinked rapidly becoming accustomed to the light. It seemed strangely normal inside the cabin, considering everything else that had just happened. In-fact as she looked around it appeared to be closer to what she presumed a theatre companies dressing room might look like, rather than a pirates inner sanctum. To emphasise the point the pirate extinguished several smouldering wicks that were tied to his beard and hair. He unbuckled his baldric and belt removing the arsenal of weapons carefully checking them and hanging them up. He twisted about removing his bulky jacket and hung that up as well. He stretched his arms and now that his jacket was gone Hannah could see that he was wearing almost a full suit of heavy armour. He hung up a leather harness that seemed to be filled with many little pockets and smelled of sulphate. With a bit of struggling he removed the chinstrap from his hat revealing that It had a steel bowl helmet inside the tricorn, he removed his red mask and then oddly released a cord and unclipped his beard. Her look of fear turned to puzzlement as she recognised what lay underneath the dreadful disguise that the pirate had worn.

  Barnabas gave her a sheepish grin,
    “Sorry for the surprise, the old devil pirate turns out to be the son of a merchant. Now you have to understand that this is sort of the family trade. You see my grandfather was the first pirate blood beard. It was his idea to go with the whole supernatural devil thing to frighten people. He looked a lot like his son … err my father. And I look a lot like them both. My father took on my grandfather’s ship and legacy, now I keep the name going, as it has its uses from time to time. Who is going to look for you now that the devil pirate captured you”? He looked into her eyes and saw the indignation in her face. He considered removing the gag and thought better of it.
    “Now it’s not like I am really a pirate, well you have to understand that my family invested there ill-gotten gains in shipping. We used the reputation of the pirate blood to dissuade other pirates, to stop them and privateers interrupting the family business. We made it known that the teach shipping company had already paid protection to the dread pirate, struck a bargain in blood. We were under his protection and others had to stay there hand or else. Some didn't and were put to the bottom of the sea. While rival merchants occasionally had their shipping chased off by the dread pirate blood, from the more profitable trade routes”.

  He made her a cup of tea and waited for her to cool off a little, when he was certain that she was not going to start ranting at him or try to bite him or the like, gingerly he started to remove her gag. She looked exasperated,
    “We are to be wed and you never told me, how dare … mphhhh!!” The gag went back in fastened firmly in place and he gave her a little more time to cool down, making her another cup of tea. Eventually Hannah appeared to relent and fluttered her eyes, the gag was cautiously removed again.
    “BARNABAS … Err don't gag me again … Its just, but I saw him shoot you”. He tapped the armour plate on his chest,
    “It’s a trick, you can see I wear a good steel breast plate under my coat. Plus the pistol was just filled with soot, he was my man on board the ship. His primary job was keeping an eye on you. I couldn't let the governor send you back home to be … err be re-educated in that terrible place”. She looked relieved,
    “You do love me! … and I am truly glad to escape the rotten fate that my father had planned for me, my heart soars that you care for me. Yet now I have some hesitation, that you will have to convince me that you are not some sort of demon in the disguise of a man”, he tried to grin and produced a fan of cards from his apparently empty palm.
    “I have a few other tricks, it's about showmanship, who would face the son of the devil on the open sea”? He grinned

  Very slowly and very cautiously as if he was handling finely ground gun powder next to a burning fire. The dire pirate un-wrapped his wench, allowing her the use of her arms once again. He showed her, his big fake beard made from horse hair.
    “It’s all a trick, mostly just gunpowder mixed with Barium to make it glow green. As I say the man who shot me was a plant in the crew, the rest of it was all acting. He had an empty pistol full of soot and I think maybe a ball of wax. I am very safe, blood beard is always wearing armour when he delivers a performance. From my grandfather’s day, it’s always the same a lot of armour steel plate under all the clothes. I must admit that drowning is the biggest risk, if I were to fall in the drink. But many a sailor can’t swim anyway, a sailor stays in the boat not flying overboard”.

    “Let me show you”, he opened the palm of his hand to show a quantity of ground up grey powder in a fold of thin paper, with a match over the glove which had a thick palm. With a movement of his fingers the match struck and the powder ignited with an eerie green glow that burned away quickly.
    “I did all that with quite a bit of theatrics, with little more than a few handheld fireworks and a bit of play acting from an accomplice”. She looked about his ship,
    “But it seemed so real, I saw the bodies the blood, are ye truly not immortal”?

  He scolded her,
    “I suppose I am too good an actor, I already told you. You know that the pirate appears to not age, I am the grandson of the original pirate blood beard. The green glow of the lanterns a bit of stained glass put into them. The bodies hung from the sides and mast just sack cloth and rope displayed in the right way. My flaming sword was just some thick oil coated on the blade”. She poked him with the pin of her broach,
    “Ouch”! she looked surprised,
    “You do bleed?”
    “Of course I do, ye daft wench”. She looked reassured and leaned forwards presenting her lips her eyes closed, he made sure that the broach pin was out of reach then held her tightly and met her lips. However there reunion was interrupted by a shout,
    “Ship of the line to port, all gun ports open”. Barnabas had to blink Hannah had already seized a musket off the wall and was about to start loading it, she looked at him,
    “They are not taking me back”! He tried to pull the gun out of her hands,
    “Stay in the cabin, this is my ship”. She almost fell over realising that her body was still bound from ankles to waist, having forgotten that little fact in her exuberance to arm herself.

  Barnabas quickly dressed and left his cabin locking the door. When he got to the wheel house It was the governor ship the long-sword, he seemed to be hot on the pirates trail. With the spy glass to hand Barnabas Teach could see the man pacing the deck. Powdered wig on his head, a bandage around his temple. The governor must have been planning to escort the ship wyvern so far, until it was out of his territory and on the high seas. He had probably met up with the wyvern, now he was in pursuit to reclaim his future wife. Barnabas considered his options, the governor came with an 80 gun man o war and 200 soldiers pulled from the port garrison. At least that was what the telescope could tell him. The pirate captain was not shaken or afraid in the least. Even if he was outgunned by 20 cannon, he still had an allied ship trailing behind him. On paper it was an even fight, two pirate vessels against one larger tougher navy ship.

  Yet the pirates had been doing this for a long time, veterans of many battles the sons and grandsons of blood beards original crew. They were ready to fight, for capture was never a good option for a pirate. A battle, even against a big man o war was preferable against facing the gallows. Barnabas knew to get too close would be an issue, in a boarding action they would lose to the number of soldiers that the larger vessel carried. Unless there spirit and numbers were broken it was a risk. It was no good trying to slug it out at close range they would lose, simply on the number of guns. The Devils Due had been built with many sorts of battles in mind. The ship turned when they were well away, the long guns barked first. The first blood went to the pirates as the navy ship was hit with a high broadside of chain shot, shredding many of the Long-Swords top sails and damaging the rest, now the ship could barely manoeuvre its rigging ruined.

  For a moment Barnabas considered retreat, and yet he had a reputation to uphold. Others ran from the devil pirate. The navy crew tried to fire back, but they were far too eager misjudging the distance and hitting the water. The opponent was barely in range of their guns. The devils due was purpose built, its hull was very heavily reinforced with around 2-2 1/2 feet of thick seasoned hard wood between the few cannon balls that managed to hit it and the crew. The retaliation against the navy ship now that they were a sitting duck was quite dire. The battery of mortars mounted in the heart of the pirate ship carefully aimed then barked as one. The path of the projectiles could be seen, the navy crew braced for impact. The man o war shook as the shots shredded the ships top deck and broke the moral of the crew and ranks of soldiers.

  The two ships slowly circled and exchanged a couple of broadsides, the Long-Sword with the Devils Due. The pirate crew was ironically much better drilled in their weapons, really walloping the enemy ship with almost every canon ball on target. They managed to get off three barrages of gunfire while the navy crew managed a paltry one in return. The navy crew had been sitting in port drinking rum and scratching their arses for a couple of years. The pirates of the devils due believed that the son of the devil was on their very shoulder, so they were as sharp as a razors kiss.

  The pirate ship closed in on the once far more impressive vessel. The second pirate vessel Hopes Ruination circled around the other way ready to fire. The gun crews of the navy had shot there load in vain and had enough of a pounding in return for their troubles. The mortars had killed some and wounded many more, extinguishing there will to fight. The captain looked on as grappling hooks pulled the two vessels together, the limping ship with is shattered topsail was sandwiched between the two pirate vessels. The boarding action was about to begin, if they resisted the pirates were ready to sweep the deck with musket fire. 

  The soldiers and sailors were not paid enough to fight ghosts and devils, especially not ones who could fire back cannon shot so quickly. The pirate captain had to keep his name, he had to settle things hear, it was best to draw a line under this then he could start his life with Hannah. He swung over to the deck of the enemy ship on a rope, his crew following him closely. The larger ships crew depleted and wounded quickly surrendered at the prospect of fighting the pirates. Dropping their weapons and raising their hands. They had heard some snatches of the story that the Wyverns crew had told them, it drained a fighting man's spirit more than any show of force.

  Barnabas surveyed the enemy ship, there was a bit more damage than he intended but it could still make port. He had no desire to sink it when he could do more by a show of more surgical force. He didn't have enough crew to man this ship as well. With certain theatrics he could cement his reputation for decades and settle the matter of his soon to be wife with her other suitor. He looked at his rival the governor,
    “You sir … step forwards and draw your blade, time to meet oblivion”. The pompous man had not had such a soft life to climb to the heights he occupied. He had fought substantially more than one duel in his time to remove a rival. The pirate would take the governor on in such a duel. For a moment the man looked trapped between his fear and his rage. Eventually he snapped moving quickly, the Governor tried to ward him off with a large silver cross.

  Playing up the part the dread pirate blood laughed at him,
    “God will not aid one with a soul as black as ye”, still keeping up the act. The Governors body guard a black suited man stepped in,
    “Sir, you will have to go through me first”. The Dire pirate shrugged his shoulders making sure his armour was freed up. He pulled a sword out from its sheath, in drawing his finger struck a catch on the hilt, a little flint strike ignited the oil on the blade. He backhanded the guard with the flat of the blade, blinding him with the burning sword. The man staggered back and the dire pirate blood sunk the sword into his opponents chest. The man collapsed with the sword still embedded in him, slowly the flames wreathing the sword went out. The governor seemed to have a bit of grit to him rather fighting than laying down. He sighed resolutely and made a grand gesture of drawing his own long-sword. Everyone backed up to give the two opponents room.

  The governor looked around, it appeared that no other would jump into the ring and act as his second. The dread pirate took the measure of him and was prepared for some dirty fighting from the governor. Despite his age He was quite fast drawing a pistol from his belt. He fired staggering the dread pirate, as the led deformed on thick steel. The pirate immediately got back up, just having acquired a dent in his armour.
    “You try my patience sir”, The Governor reached into his coat and pulled out a hidden small derringer style pistol. It did about the same denting an armoured plate on the pirate captains thigh. The governors sword had a hidden pistol in the grip. He was careful this time to aim into a place that would do a lot of damage, still trying to fell his adversary. The dread pirate could see the barrel and interrupted him knocking the blade away. The sword gun fired prematurely and the pistol ball was sent into the mast. Conversely the dread pirates first pot-shot in return with one of his pistols also didn't do very much against the governor. It was quite apparent that in preparation for such a duel, the governor was wearing a chest plate and armour under his coat.  

  From his boot the governor pulled a throwing knife, it streaked through the air and cut into the dread pirates jacket. The governor was rapidly running out of tricks. From his sleeve the governor pulled a second throwing knife, it bounced off the armoured coat. He had his sword ready, it was poisoned substantial, the sword blade was sharp. They parried and thrust exchanging furious blows, it didn't matter what the governor did he couldn't cut his Nemesis. The governor tried any way he could to win, ready to throw burning lime powder into his opponents face. An elbow at the right time sent the mixture flying. The governor was trying to clear his eyes when he received a fatal stab to the throat. The blow was at an angle that travelled between his neck guard and chest plate. It killed the governor almost instantly and he dropped his blade. The dread pirate calm on the outside sweating on the inside looked at the body.
    “I have no need to take his soul, my father already claims it”. The rest of the crew already disheartened had all possible embers of defiance stamped out. None resisted as the pirates took the governors pay chest, he wouldn't need it now. It was a typical treasure chest bound in iron around a hardwood box. With a key that had to be pried from the governors grasping hand, at least that was the rumour that they left behind. The remaining navy crew and smouldering ship were left to limp back to port.
 
  Finally Hannah had slipped all her bonds, a dagger between her teeth and a pistol in each hand she tried to get out of the locked cabin via the window. However she was now stuck halfway with the frame refusing to let her hips pass. Barnabas looked up at her,
    “It’s over”. He rested his hands on her shoulders and gently shoved her back through the window. In the cabin Barnabas examined the sword taken from the governor looking at the chipped blade, he held it up to his nose, cautiously sniffing,
    “A strong poison, glad the point missed me, Trelawney is dead”. The saucy wench looked relieved as she kissed the pirate lord. She was put back in her wrapping for now the most valuable treasure. Like this she seemed to have grown fond of being tightly wrapped, if it was the right pirate who was tightening the rigging. The strict governess in a turn of irony got to enjoy her charges spare set of night restraints. There would be some considerable payback later. Hannah was sure it would involve a lot of tickling and spanking. The large ship sailed off into the sunset. When it was out of reach of the navy ships view the crew started to change the ship over to a more mundane configuration. Lifting the reaching devil figure head into the storage, changing over the tainted sails until it looked like a simple but large merchant vessel, heading back to port. No one would interrupt the captain for some time.

And they sailed on happily ever after