Haitsu 

It was as Gennie watched the same two sailors as they gathered the weapons and supplies from the training, that she recalled her first meeting with the girl, Haitsu. As if beckoned, Haitsu cast a smile to the woman she now called captain. It was Maggie, with her arm resting on Gennie’s shoulders, who laughed at a memory shared by only the three of them. 

“She has grown much since that night on the beach.” Maggie’s laughter settled into an impish grin. 

“That she has.” Gennie sighed. 

She waved Haitsu to them and away from the drudgery of hauling the supplies. 

“Captain?” Haitsu stopped in a bow as she approached Gennie and Maggie. 

“Haitsu, Mademoiselle Pye and I were recalling your first encounter with the two of us. How long ago now?” Gennie smirked.

A ghost of concern passed Haitsu’s face. “I. I mean, I was barely a girl then. Why? Why are you thinking of this story?”

“No need for concern, dear!” Maggie burbled. “It was a lark. As much as it was then. And it was in comment on how much you have grown since then.”

At this the young woman looked down at herself. “I mean, I do enjoy the cook’s food.”

All three women shared a laugh at this. There was no denying the girl they had met half starved on the islands had developed an appetite, and hips to match. She would not be considered a starved waif by any stretch. 

“Come, sit with us. You are well of an age to enjoy a drink and share all sides of a tale.” Maggie clapped the young woman on the back. 

“Oh! But the weapons.” Haitsu attempted to protest.

Gennie waved the thought away like a buzzing annoyance. “Let a few of the others carry the load. You have done quite enough for ten sailors.”

It took only a fleeting glance to free Haitsu from her burdens and follow the women to the front of the ship. There the trio reclined upon crate, coil of rope, and sack of drying grain. 

***

 Blackstrap stood impressed at how lovely her dear lady thief looked. Pye dressed far above her station, in thread-of-gold bodice and brocade overdress, her hair twisted in copper spirals. She set her new friend’s hat upon her head,  and tipped it to hide her own feminine features. Now with the dark coat and hat, Blackstrap was little more than a shadow. 

“Loverly.” Maggie noted how the hat suited her small friend. 

With a nod, the women parted ways as they found the servant’s entrance to the largest estate on the island. Within, landowners, lords, ladys, and wealthy associates gathered; gossiping, paying little mind to sobriety or  propriety. Maggie slipped in among daughters and wives of the rich. Her intellect, while ill begotten, rivaled tutor-educated divas happier to twitter about societal nonsense of the world. Maggie could play this part, as well as any other with a ready manner.  

Entertained though she was, Blackstrap had business of her own to tend to. She too could have fallen back into her society ways, as Solange, but she, like Maggie. Though, so soon after her families tragedy she might well have been recognized, even an ocean away from France.   

In the kitchens, Blackstrap found the cellar doors. Silently, she entered the cool dark of the musty rooms. Dragging a line over a row of dust-caked bottles and jugs, Blackstrap at last located her name.  

  “Pour moi, mais oui?”  

With stealth and speed, Blackstrap scurried, armful after armful, of bottles to a waiting wheeled cart. With each trip she returned with bottles to replace the missing. Her task complete, Blackstrap rolled, with laden cart to await her accomplice. 

Maggie, with loaded pockets, arrived in short time.  

Maggie and Blackstrap lay watching stars pass through an opening in the ceiling of a small grotto. Listening to the tide against the walls of the stone caves of the beach they reveled in the reward of their latest caper.  

Blackstrap stowed the jugs of rum beneath a pile of driftwood, leaving one to rest within reach. She then curled to her side, hands under her head, to watch her friend. 

Maggie rolled to her back and withdrew an enormous ruby brooch from her bodice. She admired the cut of the gem in the moonlight. The items had come from one of the wealthiest estates on the islands. Their escapade was most profitable, though the risk had been higher.  

“Do you think we were followed?” Blackstrap yawned. 

“No.” Maggie sighed, eyes heavy though she gazed at the trinket. “I’m sure they’re still drinking the piss water rum you swapped. The heads of the wealthy are as empty as their pockets are full.”  

“I was wealthy once.” Blackstrap demurred. “Am I empty headed then?”  

Maggie maintained her gaze on her treasure. Like many things Blackstrap said in their short friendship, the idea that this grubby sailor beside her had been a woman of wealth, intrigued her. 

“No, pretty, when your pockets empty your mind opens to fill them again.”  

Blackstrap’s eyelids drooped even as her lips curled in a smile. “Well, then Mademoiselle Pye, you should be careful.”  

“Why is that, pretty?”  

“Because your pockets have gotten so full you are stuffing your bodice. That could make you dull indeed.”  

Maggie’s laughter echoed off the stone walls surrounding them. She stared at the brooch again. “I suppose in some ways then, it is good that this is our last night together.”  

Maggie barely heard Blackstrap’s murmured response before nodding off as the other had.  

A shadowed figure by the entrance to the cave waited before inching to the sleeping thieves. Though vigilant to avoid kitchens and corridors, Blackstrap unknowingly picked up a follower. A young servant of the estate witnessed the unfolding plot so tediously performed by the thieves. Neither woman moved as Haitsu’s large, dark eyes watched  from the darkness. The island girl had stolen from the household on several occasions. Though not fond of how her people were treated by settlers and sailors, she could smell the possibility for reward when it arose. 

Haitsu sidled along the walls, keeping both eyes on the women, certain their eyes were not on her movements. Haitsu listened to Maggie’s steady breath even as she put a hand over the glittering brooch. She closed her hand  over the trinket and backed into the shadows.  

  She then made her way to the bottle above Blackstrap’s head. Haitsu closed her fingers around the neck of the bottle, sliding the glass against the sand. The track was little more than a hand’s breadth when Haitsu felt a hand on hers. 

Blackstrap’s eyes remained closed though she gripped the bottle and  Haitsu. Blackstrap drew the bottle, along with Haitsu, to her and curled into a fetal position. Haitsu swallowed as silently as she could. Her eyes wide, and anxiety welling, she yet wondered at the sort of person who snuggled a bottle of rum.  

Haitsu, in a clumsy, rush to be free, struck the sleeping thief in the face with the bottle. 

“Zut alors!” Blackstrap sat upright, releasing Haitsu to put a hand to her face.  

The outburst shook Maggie from sleep. “Hey!”  

Eyes wide, Haitsu snatched the bottle and rolled to her feet, kicking for the opening of the cave at a run. Her bare feet pounded the sand just ahead of the trailing thieves.  

“Thief!” Both women called before the irony of the situation settled upon them. 

Haitsu’s breath ran short, as she made her escape up a leaning palm. She was quick and practiced at shimmying the rough branchless trunk. Blackstrap, though equally small and quick, remained moderately drunk and equally unpracticed at climbing trees. She made it barely halfway before descending at twice the speed to slide and slam onto the beach.  

“Chien!” Blackstrap bellowed at the girl.

Maggie caught up, but made no move to climb.  

“Zut encore!” Blackstrap screeched.  

Maggie snickered even as Blackstrap’s face contorted in frustration.  

  “For days and night now, you and I owned these islands. And yet, here we stand, like fools.”  

Blackstrap shifted her attention to the tree. She kicked the trunk, though her anger evaporated.  

“Pretty, we’ve been bested.”  

“Hoy!” Maggie called after their laughter subsided. “Hoy! I say! Come on down, pretty.”  

“Sweetie is not my name.” Haitsu hissed down.   

“Oui.” Blackstrap called out. “Then, what is?”  

“Like I am going to tell you!” Haitsu shouted.   

“Hey, be polite to your older sisters. You have our word, we will not harm you.” Maggie reasoned.  

“Tell me your name, and I will tell you mine.” Haitsu bargained.  

“Maggie Pye.” Maggie curtsied.  

“Et, Blackstrap. Gennie.” It was the first time Solange had said the name. 

Haitsu found humor in the names. One, a bird fond of shiny objects had stolen the from guests. The other, named for the rum they had stolen.  

“Haitsu.” 

Haitsu paused out of reach to gauge the motives of the pair. Simultaneously, they put out a hand for their treasures.  

“You are a good thief, little one.” Maggie caught the brooch as it was tossed.  

“I am curious if the petite fille knows how good.” Blackstrap caught the bottle.  

“You are the thieves the entire island is talking about.” Haitsu’s eyes grew wide.  

“None other.” Blackstrap bowed.  

Maggie sized up their young  opponent. “Near a decade our junior, aye? Keep it up and you will be more the devil than either of us.”  

“Are you telling me to repent?”  

“Mais non!” Blackstrap laughed. “We are leaving. We do not wish to leave the island to be bored in our absence.”  

The pair linked arms and continued back to the grotto. 

Haitsu followed. “Wait!” 

The women stopped to hear the girl as she blocked their path.  

“Do you need help? With your other treasures?” Haitsu smiled. “For a fee I’ll help you carry your things.”  

“For a small fee.” Maggie stated. 

Both women grinned as they led Haitsu to the cave. 

“These are very heavy.” Haitsu groaned as her back ached with the weight of rum and trinkets.  

***

“You will be stronger for trying to carry just a bit more than you can handle.” Maggie and Blackstrap laughed at the memory.  

“Don’t worry Haitsu, on a ship everyone pulls their own weight.” Gennie smiled. 

“Especially in times of trouble.” Maggie nodded. “And there is a fair share of  trouble always around Blackstrap.”