A Captive of Chance by Zoe Blake

he was looking forward to seeing flashing blue eyes framed by thick black hair till he was greeted by brown hair with indistinct eyes.
    “She’s gone,” whispered Marina, deathly afraid of his reaction. She huddled naked under the blanket having given Belle her only dress.
    “What the fuck do you mean ‘she’s gone’?” he raged.
    “She snuck off the ship and into port a few hours ago,” Marina fearfully whispered.
    “God dammit!” stormed Chance, picking up the first object he could lay hands on, the wine bottle, and sent it shattering against the cabin wall, sending a sickly spray of blood red wine across them both.
    “What the hell is going on?” asked Drake.
    Marina was so happy to see him standing in the doorway, she sprang to her feet and ran naked into his arms. Drake shrugged out of his still wet oilskin coat and draped it over her shoulders, rathering she caught a slight chill then letting Chance peer at her naked form. Drake liked to share… but selectively.
    Chance ran his hand through his hair, standing helplessly immobile in the middle of the cabin.
    “Belle escaped,” he said in a dead monotone.
    “Jesus. In Tortuga?” exclaimed Drake. His tone showing he understood as well as Chance the added danger.
    Bending down to meet Marina’s frightened eyes, he buttoned the oilskin coat more firmly about her before saying, “Go back to the cabin. Wait for Gregor.”
    Marina nodded, with an apologetic glance over her shoulder at Chance, she scurried out of the room.
    Chance had already sprung into action. Ripping off his wet britches and shirt, he had changed into dry clothes and was already strapping on his leather brace with the five loaded pistols he kept in a locked trunk next to his bed.
    “Chance,” said Drake quietly.
    His close friend did not even look up but resolutely continued to strap additional ammunition to his belt.
    “Chance,” Drake tried again. “You know there is very little…”
    Chance raced across the cabin and grabbed his friend by the shirt, throwing his large frame back several feet. “Don’t you say it. Don’t you fucking say it,” he snarled.
    “All right. All right!” said Drake, throwing up his hands in a placating gesture. “What are you going to do?”
    With a sinister smile, Chance responded before heading out the door, “Our brethren are about to find out the real reason I’m called “Le Chanceux”.
    * * *
    Belle huddled closer to the strange woman next to her. Belle learned her name was Rowan. The pretty little redhead had been handed over to the pirates by her own village when they suspected her of witchcraft. Why she could not understand such betrayal, Belle could understand the villagers’ fear. Rowan seemed to have an unworldly look about her, as if only her body was experiencing the horrors of her situation. Her mind and soul were far away… safe. It was a fanciful notion, but Belle could not help being comforted by the woman’s strange serenity.
    Trying to get warm in the cold, dank cell. The obnoxious smell was almost overpowering. As far as she could tell, some of the ten women crammed into the tiny cell had been there for over a week. It was startling to hear how their tales of being captured differed from her own.
    Many were sisters and wives living in quiet seaside towns when the pirates attacked, killing their men and taking them prisoner. The women were forced to make the perilous journey to this pirate island in the belly of the ship’s hold. No light. No food. Barely enough water to keep them alive.
    All were captured by the same pirate. The man they called, Heartless Hal. What was it with pirates and their pet names?
    Belle miserably regretted her rash actions. In the chaos pulling into port, it was surprisingly easy to slip away. Many women of low report came tumbling onto the ship to greet the randy pirates so it was no matter to duck in with them and slip down the gangplank and into the bustling port city. It did not take her