It was in the 1700s. At that time, the life of a woman was to marry for security, or be a governess or maid. Most of my crew and I would rather be dead than have that life. So we were willing to risk it.. To become a pirate.
My friends and I had been refused space on most boats because duh we are women. Superstitious, sanctimonious pricks the lot of them!
So we got an old boat and fixed it up and flew our own flag. Instead of the traditional red flag, we had a white background with a red rose on it. And our black flag had two crossed swords with blood on the one tip. The tiniest spot of red on black and white.
We wore red patches over one eye when we were boarding ships, instead of black. Our skirts were red and we had a white peasant blouse and a red waist sincher. We tried to keep them clean and pretty. I bet we did better than most of the men did!
Some of the local women started wearing our garb when they heard about us. Partly in sympathy and partly to aid us. To act as decoys when the soldiers came looking for us. The chance they took was being hanged as a pirate, so we didn’t encourage it at all. But they thought we were romantic.
Considering the time and the fact they were pressed into service, the men we collected from other boats really didn’t object to coming with us. Well not at first. They were pretty sure they were getting a chance to have their way with us. So they helped us gather supplies from the navy ships and carry it to ours. The pressed men thought they would be staying on our ships as sex slaves. LOL Nope, we sold them as slaves in foreign lands. It was hard to see the look in their eyes when they realized. We were just as cautious about having men on the boats as other pirates were about having women on theirs. Not happening in the long run. Didn’t mean we couldn’t have a bit of fun with them while they were there though. 🙂
We chained them in the galley and used them as rowers by day. And chained them in a few spare cabins, so we could tease and torture them for part of the night. In ways that didn’t wreck their value when they were sold. Their muscles and limbs had to remain strong enough to work in the fields after all. So fun things like needles in the scrotum. Now and then we castrated them, if we planned to sell them in lands that prized eunuchs. If we were close enough to make that worthwhile. No harm in scarring them with burns and cuts, so long as they were superficial. And there was a place for the owners’ tattoos and brands.
One of our ladies was really good with a knife. She had grown up on a farm and was used to dealing with animal castration.. She also was good at caring for the incisions. We only ever lost two men due to infections. Not that the men were ever happy with the results, but they mostly survived it.
Between the soldiers, the male pirates and the slave dealers who at times wanted us more than our slaves, we had a hard time keeping ahead of the men. We were on a clock, and sooner or later, our time had to run out. Not to mention storms at sea. And scurvy.
But we valued our unusual lives and the freedom. So we risked getting our neck stretched with a rope choker. And most of us stayed free. Most of my crew retired to a small island where the few coins we could give them would give them a nice life. A small cottage with a garden. Independence.
But not me… I was dragged before the lord and sentenced to death. A few of my jailors had their fun with me. But my girls were able to bargain for a decent cell, good bedding and good food. Till I was hung.
On the day of my death, there was quite a crowd. Many ladies from the area wore a red pirate’s patch to show me support. It made me smile, despite my nervous state. It was a sweet thing to do. Not that it made the lord very happy. If he hadn’t known most of them, they could have gotten jailed as a pirate. He ripped the patch off his own wife’s face and slapped her really hard for her impertinance.
Finally the time came. The executioner moved toward me, put a hood over my head. I felt the rope against my throat, and my clock ran out.