Free The Noble Pirates by Rima Jean Page A

are the newcomers. Is that true?”
    England nodded, his eyes wary. He seemed to know where I was going with this line of questioning. “Aye, but what ails them is a fever, the sweats, and rigor, not intestine commotions.”
    I nodded and stood. “Take me to them.”
    Perhaps driven by curiosity, England took me to a sailcloth tent on the beach where two young sailors-turned-pirates lay, shivering and feverish. They were, by all accounts, new to the sweet trade, fresh off merchantmen from Europe. I had already prepared my decoction, pouring boiling water over ground pieces of the bark, and it was in the process of steeping when England arrived. I now poured the infusion into a pewter cup and, with shaking hands, ordered the seamen to drink.
    I was taking a risk, I realized. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’d watched my grandfather do this several times but never paid enough attention. I was fairly certain these men had malaria, and I knew that the bark of the Cinchona tree contained quinine. I also knew that by the late seventeenth century, it had been used as treatment for various ailments. I thought perhaps a native “medicine man” of the West Indies would have heard of it, if not used it himself.
    But my knowledge ended there. I didn’t know how much, how often, or for how long. I knew too much quinine could be fatal. But I figured that since these guys were pretty much done for without treatment…
    Why did I go to law school? A corporate attorney was entirely worthless in 1718. I should have followed in my grandfather’s footsteps and gone to medical school. Dammit.
    England and I walked back to the house afterward, neither one of us speaking for a long while. Then I said, “You told me pirates were democratic, right? Equality and all that? And the crews vote on major decisions?”
    England stared at the ground as we walked. “Aye.” He glanced quickly at me through the corner of his eye. “Ye’ll want the crew to vote for yer presence on board ship?”
    “Yes,” I replied. “If these men get well… Let your crew take a vote. And if you don’t agree, I’ll go to them myself and plead my case.”
    We arrived, and were standing at the door looking at each other. I smiled slightly, mischievously, and saw admiration flicker across his face. He quickly looked away and replied coldly, “It’s settled then.”
    In under two days, the young pirates began to recover. I went to them several times a day, to ensure that they drank the quinine. One of them, a blond, baby-faced youth, called me his “sweet angel” and held my hand to his whiskered cheek with adoration.
    Word spread quickly. I began treating the other afflicted individuals, and in the meantime approached Jameson with my plea. He was surprisingly receptive, gazing at me with nothing short of awe. Doctors were desperately needed aboard pirate ships, so much so that they were forced to serve in many instances. I may have been a woman, but I was clearly invaluable to a crew on its way to the disease-ridden shores of Africa.
    The crew voted.
    I was going to Africa.
    Chapter Ten
      In the two weeks that followed, I organized my “medicine chest,” which was merely a small box filled with tins of various herbs that I had either acquired from Ruth or found myself. I searched the overgrown fields and pristine jungles around Nassau and, with Ruth’s help, managed not to get myself killed.
      I set aside my fine aquamarine gown and petticoats and went back to wearing the worn sailor’s clothes England had given me aboard his ship, shortly after finding me. The linen shirt and navy breeches were so much more practical, it amazed me that all the women in Nassau didn’t wear them. I suppose it was the same reason why Tanya wore stilettos to work – fashion and all that. I also managed to come by a pair of boots, which were a lifesaver while trudging through the underbrush, looking for my medicinal herbs. I wore a wide-brimmed hat and lopped