Pierre and his wife Suzanne had spent five days below decks of the pirate ship Providence, locked in a small cabin. They had been seized while journeying from Pondicherry, en route to Yemen; the Providence was far too fast and they had quickly seized upon their small craft, which could scarcely put up a fight. Strangely, the pirates were not looking to seize any of the valuables carried aboard. Rather, they were looking for a translator; someone who could mediate between Hindustani and English.
The crew of his ship gave Pierre up quickly; as a civil servant in the French East India Company, he had spent years in Pondicherry, learning the languages of the Mughal Empire. To Pierre's dismay, they gave up his wife as well. The two were blindfolded, their hands bound, and they were carried aboard the Providence.
Days passed with monotony. They were not disturbed, or spoken to. Suzanne and Pierre made idle talk, both trying to comfort each other, both confused as to their purpose on board the pirate ship. And then suddenly a thunderous explosion shook the air. And then another, and another, a deafening roar. The cannons aboard the Providence were firing all at once; Pierre could make out screaming voices between the firing. And then, after minutes, the cannons fell silent.
Pierre and his wife held their breaths. As best as he could tell, no artillery had struck the Providence. The pirates must have been victorious in whatever their goal was.
Another day passed. Pierre heard the door to his cabin opening. His blindfold was pulled off of his face. He blinked, seeing for the first time in days. His wife sat by his side, tense but undisturbed. In front of him was a giant of a man, sweat and gunpowder staining his face.
"Oy, Frenchie. Time to go to work." Before he could say anything, he was pulled by his bound hands to his feet, and shoved out of the room. The pirate locked the door behind him, leaving his wife alone. Pierre swallowed.
The deck of Providence was buzzing with activity. The pirates seemed weary, but in good spirits. As Pierre's eyes adjusted to the sunlight, he understood why. He gasped sharply. Alongside Providence was a cavernous ship, at least twice its size. It had been successfully boarded and taken by Providence. Its deck was a wreck, ripped apart by the fierce cannonade. But its grandeur was still apparent; intricate carvings stood out along the body of the ship and along its mast. The sun flickered off of gold dust that had been painted onto the wood itself.
Pierre looked along the boarded ship's body. His eyes widened as he saw the lettering along the ship. Sorus-e-Aftab. The grandest of the treasure ships held by the Mughal empire.
Pierre was shoved forward by his pirate captor, who he learned was named Madsworth. Pierre walked across the boarding ramp and onto the Sorus-e-Aftab. The deck was quiet, aside from a few pirates carrying bags of booty back from the captured treasure ship back onto the Providence. No Mughals were to be found, disquietingly.
Pierre was led to a cabin on the deck. Madsworth knocked heavily on the ornate door with a closed fist. The violence of the knocking made Pierre jump slightly, which made Madsworth guffaw. "Cap'n!" Madsworth yelled. "Got the Frenchie here for ya!"
"Enter!" boomed a voice from the other side. Madsworth heaved open the door, which swung heavily inwards. With his other hand, he roughly shoved Pierre into the room, sending him sprawling onto his hands. Pierre was now in the presence of Blake Everett, captain of the Providence, now one of the richest men in the world after seizing the Mughal treasure ship.
Pierre awkwardly pushed himself onto his feet, and marvelled at the wide room around them. Tapestries, perhaps hundreds of years old, bedecked the room, woven from fine cloth interlaced with gold. The leather furniture and bed, covered with silk bedsheets, were perhaps more valuable than two of Everett's ships. But looking closer, Pierre could see the room was in a ruin. Tall wardrobe lined the room, many of which had been opened hastily, their belongings strewn on the floor. Pierre could make out gold jewelry and gems glinting on the floor and in the drawers.
Captain Everett's back was towards Pierre. He was focused intently on a single chest, which was lined with marble, light glinting from its silver edges. He looked back, acknowledging Pierre and Madsworth. He looked to the muscled seaman. "Our guest arrives in one piece. You may go to the royal dining room. You will be well entertained there."
Madsworth chuckled heartily and took his leave. Pierre swallowed hard, remembering the animalistic sounds he could hear coming from the lower deck. Everett beckoned Pierre to step forward and gestured to the chest. "Frenchman, do you know what is in this chest?"
Pierre gulped. "I do not, Captain."
Everett looked coldly to him. "It is what we came here for." Clearly Pierre's disbelief was visible on his face, as Everett continued. "No, not all of these trinkets lying about. What we need is inside this chest."
Before he could speak, Everett kept on. "And no, we can't just break the lock. Should we do so, the contents will be destroyed. The machinery of these Mughals is far beyond anything we've cocked up in Europe." Everett's mouth twisted in frustration. "We would have taken this ship for nothing."
He glared at Pierre. "Which is why we have a job for you, my dear French friend. You are going to be my translator. And if you do not obey..." his face darkened. "I will personally force myself upon your wife."
Pierre's mind reeled. Before he could respond, Everett shoved Pierre out of the room, hinting at Pierre to follow him. Pierre struggled to keep up as Everett strode swiftly and heavily across the deck, walking with great purpose. Pierre's mind spun, wondering what use he would be in opening an unlockable chest.
Everett and Pierre strode downstairs to the first deck. Pierre knew from his research that the first deck would have housed the lord and ladies in waiting for the royal family, and it was bedecked as such. A long red carpet stretched across the entire deck, as adorned and beautiful as any palace hallway in France. One door towards the end of the hallway was guarded by one of Everett's female pirates. She nodded to Everett as he approached.
"Musgrave," he said in reply. "None of them have been touched?" he asked, gesturing to the door.
She cackled. "Not a hair out of place. Most of the crew was fine waiting in line in the galley." Everett nodded as she unlocked the door. Everett gestured Pierre to enter first, and stepped in behind him.
Pierre saw what Musgrave was speaking about. Inside were three women, bound to the wall with shackles. Their clothes alone marked them as women of the royal family, but Pierre could perceive even from their demeanor that they held high status. They acknowledged Everett and Pierre with a trained coldness, a silent glare. Their eyes then dropped away, as if they had something more interesting to look at.
Everett acknowledged them with a similar coldness. "Frenchman," he said. "We've gathered that these women are of the high family. We've also been told that only the queen has the code to unlock the chest."
Pierre coughed. "Captain, there is no queen on board. The Mughal title is..."
Everett glared coldly at him. "Fuck their designation. The duchess then. We need to figure out who that is. But they ain't talking."
Everett pointed at them. "One of them is the duchess. Ask them who it is."
Pierre cleared his throat and translated. The women were silent. Pierre looked to the captain and shook his head.
Everett's eyes narrowed. "If they tell me who the duchess is, I will let the others go at once. We have a boat ready for them ready to disembark right now."
Pierre translated. The women did not speak.
Everett's fist tightened. "Perhaps I need to explain. My men are... hungry. They have not eaten in several weeks. The only thing stopping them from entering this room is me." Pierre felt himself sweating. His voice notably stammered as he translated the threat. "I am going to get what I want; one of the ways is easier for you, the other way is more enjoyable for my crew. What do you prefer?"
The women were not moved at all by the threat. They stood, staring blankly at the pirate captain, as though a dog were barking helplessly at them.
Everett nodded. "Very well. Take them to the galley." The women were led out of the room, with the pirates and Pierre behind. The women walked quietly behind, without uttering a word, with a trained grandeur and posture. They seem totally undisturbed by their captivity.
As they entered the galley, Pierre's eyes bulged. A line of three pirate men formed behind a dining table, as though they were patiently waiting for food. But instead of holding a plate, they were naked to their boots, and were stroking their cocks eagerly. At the head of the line was the dining table, and on top of it was Madsworth, lying sprawled on his back. He was grasping the waist of a nude woman, tiny in comparison to him.
Pierre could see that she was beautiful, with rich, dusky skin. She was gyrating on his erect penis, her pelvis dancing sensually against him. Her pink labia was wet as it grinded against his manhood, occasionally teasing him with the possibility of accepting his cock into her. But as it seemed like his cock would slip in, she would move onward. Madsworth was clearly loving this game; Pierre noted the odd interplay of this small woman in control of the physical situation with this massive, muscled pirate.
Pierre shook his head roughly. You are a married man, you fool! He thought roughly. He looked to her face, trying to assert some sort of academic distance. She was clearly not of the subcontinent; Pierre knew that much. A thick cloud of brown hair formed around her hair, magnificent and curly. Pierre began to analyze her, and noticed a small brand on her left shoulder. Though he couldn't make out the details, Pierre understood that this was how the Mughals inventoried their concubines; this woman was perhaps originally from Ethiopia, a favorite source of women for the Mughal harems.
Everett gestured for Pierre and the royal women to move closer. Pierre was more hesitant than the proud women, who appeared to barely acknowledge the sight in front of them.
Madsworth grinned at the captain. "Cap'n, this one is amazing! She's well alone worth sailing around the world for!"
Everett grunted. "Let's hope so." He gestured to Pierre. "Ask her for her name."
