Author’s Note: This story is written in expression of my passion for pirates. Ever since I was in high school, I have fantasized about a handsome rogue, back in the day, capturing me and whisking me off to his pirate ship to have his way with me again and again. I read numerous romance novels around pirates and more recently, have done some research on them after the release of Pirates of the Caribbean. Hopefully, the information that follows is both entertaining and indicative of the many legends that followed around the pirate known as Blackbeard.
Legends abound and surround the small area around Bath, North Carolina about piracy and alliances in the governor’s house that have had tongues wagging for years. No one really knows what is true and what is hearsay but enough people talk over the years to make one wonder what exactly is true and what simple fantasy is. I will admit that the simple notion of it all reeks of romance and high adventure. Perhaps that is the drawing factor of those rumored involved. I can simply tell you what I know. Let me take you back to the days of pirates and beautiful maidens who tried desperately not to love them …
Captain Edward Teach, come to be feared as the notorious “Blackbeard”, fearsome of all pirates in the early 1700’s, roamed and claimed the area around the North Carolina area known as Bath. For all intents and purposes, Blackbeard was an American pirate although he began his piracy acts of treason in the England area. Even the name of his flag ship indicated such, heralding the name of the queen herself … The Queen Anne’s Revenge. But the events that follow happened within the time that he spent in the Bath area, his home away from home.
Teach became known infamously for the huge black beard that shrouded his face and rumor has it that in order to strike terror in the hearts of his enemies, he would weave hemp into both his hair and beard, setting them ablaze in the heat of battle. Despite his large size and the fact that even his own crew feared him, he managed to win the heart of Penelope Eden, the daughter of North Carolina’s governor, Charles Eden. My version of their story follows …
“Penelope!” The call came from the governor’s library at home in the expanse of the large plantation that overlooked the west side of Bath creek.
Penelope lifted her head, gazing into the mirror at her vanity table. Her jade-colored eyes met the dark chocolate ones of the slave behind her, brushing her hair out in long waves of ebony. It was unusual for her father to call for her so late at night and concern was etched across her brow as she saw the same flicker across Beth’s countenance. Before Penelope could even ask, her personal chamber maid moved to retrieve her brocade robe with velvet trim, holding it open for the slender girl as she stood and moved into it, her soft voice lifting to call out, “Coming father!”
In a swirl of dark fabric and raven-kissed tresses, Penelope slipped dainty feet into small brocade slippers and hurried downstairs, her ever faithful slave watching her hasty departure. Charles Eden, governor of North Carolina and prominent citizen of Bath, was not one to be kept waiting and there was something in his voice that told of his immediate need for his young step-daughter’s presence. “Yes father?” she hastened in an almost breathless voice, stepping into her father’s personal study and library. She was immediately the picture of obedience and beauty as her eyes spoke of her concern for her father calling for her this late in the evening.
Charles glanced up at his step-daughter; almost breathless was he at her beauty, even at the young age of nineteen. A soft smile flitted across his lips as his left hand rested on a small jeweled box resembling, in a way, that of a small casket. It was quite beautiful and Penelope couldn’t help but glance at it in admiration even as mink-brown brows furrowed at its almost gruesome presentation. Charles couldn’t help but notice her curiosity and he glanced at it as well. “A gift,” he explained as he gently lifted to her.
Penelope’s hands closed around the small casket, lifting it closer to her view as jaded eyes narrowed, glancing at the lock that kept the casket from being opened. It was in the shape of … well, it resembled a gold coin but encrusted with a pirate’s head in the center. Penelope quickly set the casket down almost as if it had burned her slender fingers, a frown appearing on her face. “A gift from whom?” she asked, almost icily.
“Now Penelope,” Charles began, extracting a sealed envelope from his coat pocket. “As you can see, it is locked. How would I know of this information?”
Penelope furrowed her brows even as she gingerly took the sealed envelope from her step-father’s hands, glancing at him in knowledge that he was holding something back. Looking down at the seal, she immediately thrust the envelope back to him with a soft snort of disgust. “This can only be from one person and I think you know it as well as I,” she said, clasping her hands before her in hopes that her interlaced fingers proved to help keep her mouth shut as well.
Charles sighed and broke the seal on the envelope, extracting a skeleton key from it to set on the table beside the small jeweled casket. “You would want to open it. It is only proper to at least take a look.” He also extracted a folded letter on parchment to set beside the key. “I would not look at something addressed to you specifically.”
“Since when?” she retorted softly, picking up the key and inserting it into the nose of the pirate coin that made the lock on the casket. She need not look up to know what kind of look her step-father was bestowing upon her. Why he continued to support the scaly-wag known as Blackbeard.