In Which the Princess Meets Some Relations

From the diary of Dulcie, Crown Princess of Bentlefay:

Heavens! I’ve certainly been welcomed with all the panoply of the pirate kin – and quite a panoply it is!

They were already at anchor when we hove into view, and what a festival of flags and bunting, and colorful paint and costumes they were, in comparison with the drab and uniform utility of the navy. There were three of them: two sizable barks, and an immense flagship, a little distance apart, so that when we hove up ourselves we made quite a little archipelago in the middle of the open water.

I will say for our captain that although regulations constrained him from competing in the matter of flags and bunting, he was not to be outdone in clean maneuvers and naval etiquette. We barreled stoutly at them until I thought the captain had fallen asleep, and then he barked out an order. There was a great sound of flapping in the rigging, and we suddenly seemed to curtsy, swerve, and edge up into the archipelago almost completely sideways on. The captain barked again; we glided to a halt, and the sailors slid out of the rigging and down the mast with the smartness of acrobats, to stand at attention in rows on the deck.

The flagship dropped a boat, and their boarding party came gliding up with two sweating sailors toiling away at oar, two passengers sitting squarely and with dignity in the stern, and a giant of a man standing astride the bow, with his legs taking the motion of the boat occasionally, but otherwise with no concession to the fact that he was not standing unconcernedly on land.

They made fast to our side and swarmed up the ladder with the grace and alacrity of men for whom the presence of a ladder cannot be relied upon when boarding a ship not their own. First the oarsmen, to stand at attention on either side of the ladder, then the pair from the stern, and finally the giant, who identified the players of importance in a half-second glance and strode forward.

He ignored the ranked seamen, gave a correctly modish nod and a brief “sir” to the captain, and came directly to me and took my hands in his.

“Ah, now if it isn’t little Dulcie after all these years,” he said in a resonating velvet voice rather like Father’s, except that Father’s is definitely golden and this was much more of a rich mahogany. “Sure, and I would recognize you anywhere by your resemblance to your ma.”

It was in every way the behavior of a long-lost uncle, and I wondered if he was one. He seemed the right age to be Mother’s contemporary, he had obviously known her well, and he certainly had her unconventional social grace – it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if that turned out to be inherited. He looked even larger up close, overtopping even Lynde by half a head, so that I only came up to about the middle of his chest and had to crick my neck to look at him. His muscles were superb, his clothing was as various as motley, his luxuriant black hair and beard were curled into careful ringlets and on his head was an immense black hat which, after releasing my hands at the end of a prolonged and almost painful squeeze, he swept off and made an elegant bow over one leg.

The captain, who had been as jumpy as a cat the entire journey at the thought of running across pirates on purpose, cleared his throat in a disapproving manner. “The princess will not know your name, any more than I do,” he remarked distantly, “sir.”

The giant looked astonished. “Sure and I’m Captain Robert Langstrom of the Golden Gull – Long Bob Langstrom that was childhood sweethearts with her blessed ma before ever his majesty entered the picture. The little lady will surely know me from my description.” And he beamed – which put me in a bind, of course, since while Mother had certainly told me who I was going to be meeting, and mentioned on more than one occasion her childhood sweetheart Long Bob Langstrom, to say that I had known anything about what to expect would have been wildly overstating the case.

So I said the only thing I could, which was “Oh, yes,” and smiled my widest. “Of course, Mother talks about you all the time. I knew you immediately. Thank you so much for agreeing to receive me.”

I thought by the end that I was beginning to overdo the emphasis but Long Bob seemed accustomed enough to emphasis where he was concerned and began to coruscate visibly.

“There now, you see?” he said, dealing the captain a friendly buffet on the shoulder, which made him sway though he caught himself from stumbling. “We are all family here.”

He turned back to his attendants. “This is your great-uncle, Captain Jem Herring of the Blood Wind.” He indicated a short, tubby man in a wildly eclectic garb, each component of which was new and clean and obviously intended for state occasions, but which seemed to have nothing to do with the whole. There were dimples in every corner of his round face, and one of his legs was missing from the knee and had been replaced with a peg. He limped forward to squeeze my hands in his turn.

“Blessed day for us to see you here, young Dulcie,” he said. “Your ma was the apple of our eye since she was a baby.”

“And this is Captain Jock Masters of the Sad Sarah, your second cousin once removed.” Captain Jock was almost as tall as Long Bob but nowhere near as broad, and much younger than the other two – about thirty, I thought. He was very handsome in a ruffian kind of way: dark and picturesque but with unexpected pale gray eyes that made him look like a brooding eagle. He was dressed for utility rather than show, but he looked so distinguished in himself that his clothes seemed distinguished by association. He bowed over my hand with an offhand courtesy.

“Your majesty,” he said, and then surprised everyone by looking over my shoulder and bowing to Lynde, who was wearing her fighting leathers and standing at attention.

“Mistress,” he said with courtesy infinitesimally less offhand, and his eagle eyes softened into a smile. I heard Lynde give a slight gasp – ever since we hove in, even the captain had treated her like one of his own men, and neither Long Bob and Jem Herring had acknowledged her at all – but she collected herself in a moment and gave a cool military “sir,” which seemed to satisfy Masters for the time being.

“Now,” said, Long Bob, “we can take you over to the Golden Gull and get this signing business over before the feast.”

Our captain didn’t like that. “My orders did not include allowing the princess to leave the ship,” he said. “I am afraid that any business you have with her will have to be conducted here.”

Long Bob looked at the captain from his great height, and in his silence seemed to gain menace. Herring and Masters stood quietly and at ease, and Herring even twinkled a little. I had the feeling he wanted to wink and couldn’t.

Our captain stood straight and looked Long Bob in the eye, but he was sweating lightly in spite of the breeze, and the tension in the air was palpable. I saw one or two of the seamen exchange glances, and the officers were looking definitely concerned by the time Long Bob spoke.

His great voice was gentle and courteous, but it was immediately evident that there would be no compromise. “Sure and I’m sorry to put you in such a bind, captain,” he said. “But I’m afraid that isn’t going to be an option. Our rules are very strict on that point, and I represent a great many men who would not be willing to put themselves in danger for a monarchy that didn’t have trust in them.”

The captain clearly didn’t know how to handle the situation – his distrust was plain, and he obviously assumed that I’d be taken for ransom in the blink of an eye, but it was no part of his orders to keep me from signing a crucial treaty. I decided it was time for me to weigh in.

“Of course I’ll go,” I said. “These are my kin. You’ve no need to worry.”

The captain cleared his throat. “If those are your orders, your majesty, then they must be carried out. But I insist on augmenting your bodyguard with at least four of my own men.”

Long Bob thumped the captain on the shoulder again and broke into a hearty laugh. “Bless you, man, there’s plenty of room and enough food for a platoon. You’re invited yourself, and as many men as you’d like. I’ll wager you’ve never sat up to a pirate feast before – it’s something to remember!”

So we are to go over to the Golden Gull at sunset, in our own boat with the requisite four men. The captain chose to stay – he still hasn’t convinced himself that his vessel won’t be swarmed while he is over there, but on the other hand it is evident that he will be on pins and needles for every moment I am out of his sight. It’s a difficult situation and I feel for him, but needs must – and in any case, I can’t imagine that anything will happen to me over there. They obviously worshipped Mother, and they certainly wouldn’t bring harm to one of their own.