The Swashbuckling Yarn of Milady Vixen by Christopher Newman Read Free Book Online Page A

sedition below decks and stirring the crew’s feelings against me. I will have to deal with him shortly or face a mutiny.
    Looking up in the rigging, she saw the big black man sneering at her while he sewed a patch on the canvas. The unbridled hatred in his eyes was clear even at this distance.
    K’wanta had never forgiven the former captain’s sparing of Suga, Violet and Tom. He had been looking forward to a tasty meal of flesh but found his appetite suppressed by a whim. Like most bullies, the cannibal hadn’t choked down this particular brand of mercy well. But back to our story.
    “Milady Vixen,” a man croaked out. “A word, if’n ye don’t mind.”
    “Avast yer blubbering, Dobbs, what be it?” she answered.
    “We need to take on fresh water, and the fruit onboard has gone bad. The men have asked me to tell you this so scurvy will not overtake them.”
    The ship’s quartermaster was a tiny, bent creature who squinted out of one eye. The patch upon his other was decorated with a jolly roger halfheartedly sewn on with white thread. He looked as if he was already wracked by the disease he had named.
    “Fetch me my charts,” she commanded. “While ye be at it, make sure the first mate comes along with them.”
    “Aye, Cap’n.”
    I’ll put an end to this pouting spree Tom is on, if I have to keelhaul the stubborn bastard! Vixen stated to herself.
    Dobbs left, and she watched as K’wanta scuttled like a spider down the ropes with a narrowed set of eyes. Quickly the tall man was surrounded by mutineers, each one glancing in her general direction. As she saw them nodding heads and fingering their weapons, Vixen knew the time had come.
    “Ye sent for me, Cap’n?” Tom said, suddenly appearing beside her.
    “Take the tiller; I have work to do,” she mysteriously stated.
    Ignoring his protests, she stalked down the stairs from the poop deck and stood with widely braced legs after stopping in front of the cannibal.
    “Ye be preaching mutiny, haven’t you, K’wanta?” she spat.
    “Argh, that be the truth of it.” He laughed. “Ye be unfit to command this here vessel.”
    “Oh, and I suppose you feel better qualified to lead this pack of Jack Tars?”
    “It has crossed me mind.”
    “Then defend yourself, you ungrateful whelp of a motherless whore!”
    Hissing steel slithered out of their sheaths, and the crew formed a rough circle around the two combatants. Slowly circling each other, each sized up his or her foe. K’wanta was a head taller than Vixen and as strong as a bull. Also in his favor was his greater reach, but his cutlass was a foot shorter than her rapier. Vixen easily parried his flashing strike while he grinned with his pointed teeth.
    “I will be dining on your tender flesh,” he slurred. “After, of course, the rest of these rogues tenderize your body for me.”
    “Ye will find that hard to do with a slit gullet!” she shouted.
    Once, twice and thrice their blades struck and danced off one another. Launching into a furious and powerful series of blows, the cannibal tried to hack her to pieces. Vixen thwarted each attack easily. Her blade stung him on the thighs, chest and forearms until his limbs were streaming with glistening red trails. Her booted feet thumped out a cautious but expert rhythm while his bare soles slapped upon the boards.
    “Aaaggh!” he shrieked, throwing himself at her.
    Vixen dodged and whirled. Her slender sword’s point pierced him through the shoulder and immediately numbed his arm. The big black man’s cutlass rattled to the deck. She ran him through the other muscle on the same side, leaving him without a useful limb to resume their dance of death. He lay there groaning on the boards.
    “Ye were always a clumsy oaf, K’wanta,” she sneered. “I think the only f-flesh dining will be done by yonder sharks trailing our stern.”
    Her words came out haltingly, and agony poured through her left thigh. Flicking her gaze down, Vixen saw the red, gaping