The Lie
Gabriella Mullins was arguably the prettiest wench ever to pour a pint at the King's Arms Tavern. Unlike the other serving girls at the London public house, however, Gabriella was not one to raise her skirt for the sailors and impoverished merchants who frequented the tavern. It was not a question of morals; this buxom beauty was holding out for something better than the uncertain life of a trollop.
The opportunity to improve her fortunes arrived one stormy night in October 1716, when a grand coach stopped in front of the King's Arms. The young lad who alighted from the carriage and entered the tavern seeking a hot meal and a cold drink was not the most handsome man Gabriella had ever seen, but he was no doubt the finest. His appearance was immaculate, his voice cultured and his manners impeccable.
"Can I 'elp you, sir?" Gabriella asked eagerly.
The patron, nineteen-year-old Drummond Burke, sat down at a table near the fire and smiled at the serving girl, dazzled by her beauty. Gabriella noticed his interest and leaned over, thus giving him an excellent view of her generous cleavage. Forcing his eyes away from her plunging neckline, the young nobleman stammered out his request.
Later, while Drummond was eating his less-than-appetizing meal and enjoying Gabriella's attempts at flirting, his coachman entered the tavern.
"Sir, a coach passed by just now," the teamster informed his employer. "The driver told me there is a washout up ahead; the road is impassible."
"No problem. We'll stay here for the night and continue our journey in the morning, provided the road is open then."
The coachman nodded and went out to the stable to see to the horses.
Drummond called to Gabriella, "Have you a room for the night?"
"Aye, sir," she replied with a seductive smile.
* * *
During the next several months, Drummond returned to the King's Arms many times to pursue the pretty redheaded, green-eyed serving girl. The trip being a long and arduous one, he eventually purchased a small cottage for her not far from his family's estate. Although the young gentleman believed these living arrangements were ideal, Gabriella was not content to be a rich man's mistress, hidden away from polite society like an embarrassing secret. Such women were as plentiful as cutpurses and common prostitutes in the London slums. No, she wanted to be a grand lady. She patiently waited six long months, hoping—nay, praying—for Drummond to propose. When the nineteen-year-old failed to do so, she decided to take the initiative.
"Marriage?" Drummond echoed the word with astonishment when she brought up the subject. "I'm afraid that's out of the question. I adore you, darling. I honestly do. But I'm the sole heir to Falcon's Lair. I have to marry someone with land and a sizable dowry, someone of my own class."
"And what about me?" Gabriella cried. "Am I to be used and then discarded?"
"No, my dearest love! I'll always take care of you."
Anger swelled in her breast, but she wisely kept her temper. She needed to appear demure and vulnerable, for she was about to gamble and put her future on the line.
"What about our baby then?" Gabriella asked cautiously.
Drummond's face paled.
"Baby? What baby? Are you telling me that ...?"
"I'm with child: your child, the heir to Falcon's Lair and your family's fortune. Oh no! That can't be, can it? I'm not a woman with land and money, and I'm not one of your class. That means our child will have to be born an unloved, unwanted bast—"
The besotted Drummond silenced her.
"Don't say that. I will love our child, and I will provide for him amply. He will go to the finest schools, and when he's of age, I will start him in business. He—or she—will lack for nothing. I promise."
"Except a name and a father."
"I'll be his father. I'll spend as much time with him as possible."
"When? During those rare moments when you are able to sneak away from your legitimate family? Will you ride over from Falcon's Lair on holidays and spend time with him? No. You will be lord of the manor; you won't have time to spare for me or our child."
Gabriella pretended to break down in tears, and Drummond did his best to comfort his distraught lover. Soon his comforting turned to passion, and before he left the cottage later that night, the naive young nobleman had promised to marry the former serving wench.
* * *
"Are you mad?" Lord Burke screamed when Drummond announced his forthcoming nuptials.
Then he saw the hurt and anger in his son's eyes, and his voice softened.
"I know what you're feeling," he said in a more compassionate, fatherly tone. "I was young and foolish once, too. I met my share of beautiful and willing wenches."
"It's not like that," Drummond protested. "I love her, and I want her to be my wife."
Despite the love he felt for his son, Lord Burke was unyielding in his opposition to the marriage.
"Now look here. You have a responsibility to your family."
"Yes, and soon Gabriella and our child will be part of my family."
A man used to having his word obeyed, Lord Burke soon lost his patience.
"That strumpet will never step foot in this house—not while I'm alive."
"Then I will leave Falcon's Lair and marry her without your blessing."
Lord Burke wanted to threaten to disown his son, to disinherit him if he persisted in his foolish course of action. That, however, was something he simply could not do. Drummond was his only child, and if Lord Burke disowned him, it would leave him without a legal heir.
* * *
When Drummond Burke brought Gabriella Mullins to Falcon's Lair to meet his parents, Lord Burke and his wife managed—with great effort—to be civil to the girl, but they could not hide their disapproval of the proposed union. Although Lord and Lady Burke tried to reason with their headstrong son, Drummond was intractable and insisted that nothing short of a legal marriage to his serving wench would do.
"The thought of that ... that ... woman living here under our roof makes me physically ill," Lady Burke cried, anxiously pacing the floor and wringing her hands.
"Don't lose heart, dear," her husband advised in a rare moment of optimism. "Perhaps our son will come to his senses before the wedding."
Whether the lad would have gone ahead with his imprudent marriage plans is something his parents would never know. A week later, while returning from the cottage where Gabriella lived, Drummond was thrown from his horse. As a result of the fall, he suffered a broken neck and died instantly.
The day after the funeral, Gabriella arrived at Falcon's Lair with a trunk containing her personal belongings.
"What are you doing here?" Lady Burke demanded to know, dropping all pretense of civility now that her son was gone.
Unperturbed by the older woman's rudeness, Gabriella answered, "I am Drummond's betrothed, and I carry his heir in my womb. I ought to be living here now."
Lady Burke called for her husband. The two grieving parents were outraged at the impudence of the London guttersnipe who dared to think she could live under their roof. Lord Burke would have had her thrown out of Falcon's Lair by his servants had he not taken pity on his unborn—albeit illegitimate—grandchild.
"Neither my wife nor I will ever tolerate your being part of our family," he announced haughtily, "but we are not going to condemn our son's child to a life of poverty. Therefore, we will arrange passage for you on a ship to the colonies. We will also give you a sum of money so that you and the child may live comfortably in the New World."
Gabriella was hurt by the couple's rejection of her, but she knew their offer was a generous one considering the fact that their son had died before the marriage could take place.
When the ship bound for the Virginia Colony left Southampton, neither Lord Burke nor his wife came to see the mother of their grandchild off or to wish her a safe voyage.
A wicked smile spread on Gabriella's fair face, and her green eyes glistened like emeralds. Let Drummond's parents believe they had gotten the better of her! She did not care, for she had gambled with her lie of being pregnant—not once but twice—and won, for she was sailing away an independently wealthy woman.
* * *
Three weeks out to sea, First Officer William Smollett aboard the India Star spotted another ship on the horizon. Through his spyglass he could see that it was sailing under the flag of England. Still, he decided to give a wide berth to the other ship, even though it appeared friendly. These were, after all, dangerous waters. The first officer's caution was justified, for the unknown ship pursued the India Star. As the ship known as the Lady Elizabeth—formerly a British merchant vessel before being captured by the notorious Red Beard—closed in, it took down the Union Jack and hoisted the Jolly Roger.
"Pirates!"
The cry was heard throughout the ship, just before it was struck by a broadside of grapeshot.
Although the crew of the India Star fought valiantly, Captain Red Beard's cutthroats soon defeated them and took over the ship. The pirates unmercifully killed the remaining crewmen and many of the passengers. Those of noble birth or great wealth were spared. Red Beard would later demand ransom from their families for their safe return. Until that time, they were locked in the cargo hold. Only Gabriella, who beguiled the pirate captain with her beauty and boldness, was left free to roam the ship. None of the men harmed her—under threat of death from Red Beard.
"What are you planning to do with me when you put into port at Jamaica?" Gabriella inquired one evening as she ate dinner with the ship's captain in his cabin.
"I haven't decided yet," Red Beard replied with teasing laughter. "If I'm feeling charitable, I may let you go, and you can continue on your journey to Virginia."
"And if you're not feeling charitable?"
"I could sell you into servitude. Someone as young and beautiful as you are will fetch quite a price, I've no doubt."
"Why don't you let me stay with you?" she asked mischievously. "I could join your crew."
"A woman pirate?"
"Why not?"
Red Beard considered the matter.
"Anne Bonny and Mary Reade sail with Calico Jack, and they are both as able as any man aboard his ship."
The pirate captain stared appreciatively at Gabriella's lustrous red curls and her dazzling green eyes. She was, without doubt, the most captivating woman he'd ever seen.
"I suppose I could teach you the tricks of my trade."
* * *
Over the next three years, Captain Red Beard and his crew of swashbucklers terrorized the Atlantic and the Caribbean. Gabriella had learned the pirate trade well. She could fire a pistol, wield a cutlass or cut a throat with as much skill as she once carried tankards of ale and wine at the King's Arms Tavern. The captain and the crew with whom she sailed respected and admired her not just as a woman but also as a brigand.
For three years Gabriella Mullins sailed aboard the Lady Elizabeth, and Red Beard still had not tired of her. In fact, his passion burned as hot as ever. The two lovers did have occasional arguments, though. Most of them involved the disposition of the passengers of the ships the pirates captured. Red Beard was growing soft with age. He often chose to spare innocent lives, but Gabriella felt no sympathy for man or woman. Her ill-treatment at the hands of Lord and Lady Burke had left her with a deep resentment of the nobility and a hatred of any people with property and position. If the decision were left to her, she would keelhaul the lot of them.
"You're a heartless wench to be sure," Red Beard laughed as Gabriella urged him to make his captives walk the plank.
"You've got the ransom money. Why spare their lives?"
"I'm in this business for plunder, girl. I take no pleasure in killing. Besides, if word gets around that I don't return the passengers after collecting the money, I'll never be able to ransom another soul."
"We don't need the money that badly," Gabriella persisted, eager for blood.
Red Beard lost his temper.
"Need I remind you that I'm the captain of this ship?" he bellowed. "And I say the passengers will be put ashore unharmed."
Unfortunately for Red Beard and his crew, one of those released ransomed passengers was Lord Peter Wallingford, a cousin of King George. When the irate nobleman returned home to England, he strongly urged the king to intensify his efforts to hunt down and destroy the bloodthirsty pirates and buccaneers who preyed on British ships.
* * *
Within twelve months of Lord Wallingford's meeting with his royal cousin, Gabriella Mullins returned to England—in chains. She was more fortunate than her male crewmates, most of whom had died fighting his majesty's Navy. Those who survived, including Red Beard, her captain and lover, had been taken prisoner, tried in Jamaica and summarily hanged.
Gabriella was also tried and found guilty, but when the sentence of death was passed, the clever vixen cried out, "Would you execute a woman with child?"
The former serving wench had gambled twice before with a false claim of being pregnant, and it had worked both times. She knew her captors would soon learn the truth, but her lie might buy her valuable time she could use to plan an escape. Ironically, when a doctor was brought in to examine the prisoner, he discovered—much to Gabriella's surprise—that she really was pregnant.
Lord Wallingford took a strong personal interest in Gabriella's case since she had argued so strenuously for his death when he was at the mercy of Red Beard and his crew.
"Do not think the child you carry will save you for long," he angrily declared. "Once it is born, you will go to the gallows and join your captain and crewmates in hell."
Before the day of her delivery arrived, however, Gabriella bribed a guard with a handful of doubloons she had secreted on her person when she was hauled off to prison. Taking pity on the pregnant woman, the guard helped her escape, and the two of them boarded a ship for South Carolina. From there, the convicted pirate hoped to travel to Barbados where Red Beard had secretly buried a large portion of his ill-gotten gains. Eventually, traveling under an assumed name in the guise of a young widow, she planned to board a ship for France where she could live in peace and comfort for the remainder of her years.
While she was staying in a small house near Charleston, walking in the private garden with a parasol to block out the strong rays of the sun, she felt a sharp pain rip through her stomach.
This is finally it, she thought, anxious to bring her pregnancy to an end and get on with her life. I'm about to become a mother.
She walked back to the house and instructed her maid to send for the midwife. Then she took off her heavy clothes, lay down on her bed and waited for her body to do its job and expel the child.
The hours dragged by, and the labor pains became worse. Perspiration beaded on her brow as the contractions forced the fetus down the birth canal. The midwife arrived and gave her a mixture of herbs to help dull the sharp pains, but the agony would not diminish.
Her body bathed in sweat, Gabriella began to shiver and then to hallucinate. In her tortured mind, Drummond Burke appeared before her.
"I loved you," he said mournfully. "I was good to you and would have taken care of you always. Yet you sought to entrap me with a lie. As if this wasn't enough proof of your evil, you told the same lie to my grieving parents and accepted their money for a child that didn't even exist. I have no sympathy for what you must now endure."
Another excruciating contraction caused Gabriella to cry out in agony, and the vision of Drummond Burke faded.
"Your pains are stronger now," the midwife announced, "and they come closer together. It will all be over soon."
When the pain briefly ebbed, Gabriella had another vision, this one of her deceased pirate lover, Red Beard.
"I've missed ye, wench," the captain said, "and I can't wait to see ye. Hell is such a lonely place without you, darlin'."
The midwife suddenly called for the maid.
"I need your help; something is wrong."
Gabriella's terror-filled screams echoed through the small bedroom. Gathering around her, unseen by the maid and midwife, were the ghosts of the men she had run through with her cutlass and the women whose throats she had cut when Red Beard had not been looking.
"Your lie will be your undoing," they cried in unison.
The midwife had been delivering babies for more than twenty-five years, and during that time she had seen numerous deformed fetuses—both stillborn and living—but nothing so unspeakable as what came forth from Gabriella's womb. At the sight of the black viscous embryonic fluid, the midwife stepped back with fear and disgust. The stench was putrid, so awful that the midwife gagged and the maid vomited.
"Quick!" the midwife instructed. "Get rid of that thing."
* * *
When the contractions stopped at last and the afterbirth was expelled, Gabriella Mullins slipped into unconsciousness. Not long afterward, she died. Justice had finally been served. Yet it was a justice tempered with mercy, for the serving wench turned pirate never had to witness the embodiment of the atrocious lie she had given birth to.
Oh no! Salem is wearing his skull and crossbones collar. Move over, Johnny Depp!
