# McClure's Magazine/Volume 55/Number 9/A Pirate of Men

The Story of a Woman Who Paid the Penalty for Her Charm
Illustration: The old man and the old woman rushed on deck. The half-witted giant stood between us, waving his arms. He would not let them approach me
A Pirate of Men
The Adventures of a Girl Who “Couldn't Help Being Fascinating”
By Owen Oliver illustrations by L. F. Wilford
THEY say that a dog can't get rid of a bad name. A woman can escape from it in a far country. I have; but some day my children may visit the place where I was born, or the place where I was first married, and find their mother called a pirate of men, a heartless coquette, or even worse. I am writing this story of the adventurous days of my life, so that they may know that these charges are untrue.
It was not my fault that the reputation of a man hunter attached to me. I was—perhaps still am—unusually good-looking. I could not help that—and did not want to help it. I had some fascination—more than the looks accounted for, I think—for men. I could not help that, either; but I think I would have if I could. I certainly did not try to attract men. With one exception, they have never attracted me greatly. I am, I believe, rather cold toward the other sex in general. Anyhow—in the fashion of the day, I'll say it bluntly—I have been beyond serious reproach in my relations with men.
The title of “pirate” was given me in jest, stuck as names given in jest do, and was altered in its implication as they often are. My grandfather always declared that we were descended from a famous old pirate, and he nicknamed me “the little pirate” when I was a few months old, because I grabbed things, and fought hard to keep them. I was rather like that when I grew up; but I did not grab at boys in particular. It was they who grabbed at me!
When I began to think myself a woman—and that was at the age of seventeen—I objected to the name; told grandfather that I wouldn't have it.
“Very well,” he chuckled, “we'll drop the name, Jennie; but you are a pirate, and always will be one—a pirate of men! Ha, ha, ha! You'll make many walk the plank, my dear; but, in the end, one will have you in chains.”
“Good luck to him!” I laughed. “He'll need to hold the chain with a strong hand! And he'll have to be very different from the boys here!”
All the young men in our little village—father was the doctor—had been “soft” with me, from the time I was thirteen, but I had felt no inclination toward any of them; or toward any man until after I spoke to grandfather. Then, when I was nearly eighteen, I went over to Dunsterville for the fair, with a lot of young people from the village. There I saw a big, good-looking sailor, with a golden beard—a huge, devil-may-care fellow like you read of in books. I clapped my hands at his successes at the coconut-shies, and he spoke to me. It was impudence, of course, but he was well-spoken, and I liked his bold way, and it teased the boys. So I talked and jested with him. Finally I let him take me home along the lane.
Illustration: A handsome young Spaniard taught me riding. He interested me because he was young and full of life, and laughed. One day he said suddenly: “How I love you, beautiful señora!”
“GIRLIE,” he said, “I've been all around the world from end to end, and you're the best thing I've seen. I'm going to marry you some day.”
“Indeed you're not!” I laughed. “If I ever marry any one, and if he's a sailor, he'll have to be a captain at least!”
“Well,” he said, “will you do it, if I get to be that?”
“Get to that and come and ask me then,” I told him.
“Give me a kiss to seal the contract?” he asked.
“I don't go in for kissing,” I told him, tossing my head.
“Time you had the experience,” he thought. “Come, girlie!”
He tried to put his arm around me, but I pushed it away.
“If you make me,” I said, “I shall detest you.”
“Make you?” he cried. “Bah! A kiss isn't a kiss unless it's willing.”
“Then I've never had one,” I said.
“Come!” he protested.
“Oh!” I said. “I didn't mean it for gospel, you know! I meant not seriously. There's dad and granddad, and mistletoe—and fun!”
“I've three good arguments for one then,” he said. “Experience, contract, fun.”
“No new experience,” I laughed. “And there's no contract!”
“How about fun?” he teased.
I let him have one, when we said good night.
“For fun,” I told him.
“On your side,” he agreed. “I could tell that. Thank you, all the same. On my side it wasn't only fun. I'll come back to you some day, my dear—— I can't rise to captain easily, or all at once. Remember that.”
I had almost forgotten about the man, till next year's fair. He was there in a different sort of cap—one with a peak. So I supposed he had done something toward the “rising.” I was mostly with the squire's son—a weedy fool who talked poetry—and only nodded to the man. But he whispered in my ear, as we were crowding into a show:
“I'm on the way to officer; going to sit for the junior mate's examination next month. I'll be behind that big elm waiting.”
Just for curiosity I went there when I came out from the show; gave the man a lecture for his presumption; said I wouldn't walk with him.
“I've put in a year's hard work for a few minutes' walk,” he said, breathing hard. “You may be in fun, but I'm not! Good or bad, you'll make my next year, this evening. I sail tomorrow afternoon. Give me half an hour to think of!”
“Oh!” I cried. “You men are all alike—silly! Very well. I shall be going home at ten. I'll come this way if I can get off from the rest.”
I RAN away from the others just before ten, and let the man walk home with me. I noticed that he spoke better. He told me that his firm was giving him a chance to “get on,” and that he had been educating himself. He wanted me to promise to wait while he “rose to me.” Of course I wouldn't promise. I told him not to come again, but he said that he would come the next year. I rather liked him, somehow—had from the first—and I often wondered whether he would come, till a dreadful thing put him right out of my head. The squire's son proposed to me. I refused him; and he tried to hang himself. They cut him down before he was dead—which he didn't deserve!—and then wanted me to go to see him, but I wouldn't.
“It wouldn't be any kindness,” I said, “because I could never marry that poor sort of creature.”
They agreed that I had better not go, if I felt like that.
I did not consider that I was in the least to blame. From start to finish I had always told Claude that I was only passing the time talking to him. But of course people blamed me—especially the girls, who were all jealous—except grandfather. So things were uncomfortable. My brother, who was eight years older than I, was home from Videas and just finishing his holiday at the time. I persuaded them to let me go out to keep house for him when he returned.
I LOVED the warm climate and the social life out there; but the men were worse than those at home over me. Two Spaniards had a duel after a quarrel about a dance which they both said I had promised them—I had only said “perhaps” to either! One was killed. The other threatened to kill himself because I wouldn't speak to him. My brother got a Mrs. Montmorency to take me away for a time to Daso, up the hills. A hateful man there pestered me, until at last he tried to kiss me by force. I got hold of his throat and half strangled him! I am little, but I am strong. Mr. Montmorency took my part, and thrashed the man when he caught him hanging around the house afterward. He was very nice to me. I expect that was why Mrs. Montmorency took me back to my brother; though good old Charlie Montmorency was only fatherly to me.
The men made more trouble for me there, and Jack said I'd better go home. I talked about it to a man named Alvarez who had a lot of influence with Jack, and with everybody. He was very rich and owned a deal of property at Videas, and two or three islands, some way off the coast. He was about fifty—a big, very strong-looking, rather handsome man. I admired him as you admire a father. I hadn't thought of him any other way, and only wanted him to intercede with Jack; but he offered to marry me.
I made a very great mistake then. I thought it would be nice to be rich and important and take the lead in things; and, as I didn't seem to care in the least for any man in particular, or fancy that I ever should, now that the sailor had passed out of my life—I had felt that I might come to care for him—I decided that I might as well marry for money and position. So I married Alvarez. He knew just how I felt toward him. I did not deceive him in the least.
I did not altogether like being married. Still, I think it might have turned out all right, but for the men. I really didn't dislike Alvarez, who humored all my wishes; but he was fearfully jealous and the men wouldn't let me alone. Alvarez caught one trying to make love to me. He owned that, from what he heard, it wasn't my fault. If you knew how jealous he was, that would clear me! But he fought the man, and wounded him; and he, and Jack, said that I had better leave Videas for a time. So my husband took me to the biggest of the islands which he owned. It was called Rosinas.
It was a pretty enough place, and we had a lovely house; but it was very dull there—no amusements or dances. I used to dance by myself to the gramophone, which had just come in. Remember that I wasn't quite one-and-twenty.
There was a handsome young Spaniard, son of a little farmer on one of Alvarez's small farms. He taught me riding and about animals and flowers, and such things. He interested me just because he was young and full of life, and laughed. I never even dreamed of flirting with him; but one day he said suddenly:
“How I love you, beautiful señora!”
I was dreadfully angry with him; told him that I did not love my servants; forbade him ever to come near me again; threatened to tell Alvarez, and only refrained from doing so on the silly boy's account. Honestly, though I did not love Alvarez, I liked him better than any one else; and I was entirely faithful to him, in thought as well as indeed.
Either on my account, or from fear of my husband, who was a despot in the island, the young man poisoned himself. Before he died, he told his father and mother that I had led him on, and then “spat at him.” The mother and father had been foster parents to Alvarez. They came to him about it. He believed them —thought me a liar when I told him the truth.
At first he declared that he would kill me. I felt even more angry than afraid; more angry than I had known that I could feel. I expect there was some fierce old pirate blood in me.
“Do it, you coward and bully!” I said. “Then you'll hang! And they'll jeer at the old man who murdered his young wife! Because he couldn't hold her!”
That was a horrible thing to say; but remember that I was accused unjustly of a horrible thing, and threatened with death for it.
After my speech, Alvarez went red and picked up a dagger. I pulled my blouse open.
“Kill me!” I cried. “Come! Why don't you do it? How they will laugh!”
He went very pale and still, then.
“They shall not laugh,” he said, in a dreadful, quiet way. “Neither shall you!”
“I dare say you are so little of a man that you would beat or torment me,” I taunted him, “but, if you do, some day I will put a knife into you—wait my chance to do it. I swear it, Carlos!”
“I SHALL not beat you,” he said. “Listen. Look out the window at the sea and the old hulk lying there. It shall be your home—your prison—for the rest of your days. A bare prison, a bare fare—and you like the good things of life, don't you, Jennie? You married me—even old me!—for them. There you will grow old, dull, withered. No one will ever come to you. I shall send your brother a certificate of your death—from our island fever; tell people here that you are dead; pretend to bury you; put up a monument. There shall be a marble angel, pointing to your prison! I shall be inconsolable. Ha, ha! But you will not laugh very much, rocking in your bare prison! Don't think you will ever escape. You are already considering cajoling your jailers, eh? I can read you. Well, you won't. They will be Juan's own father and mother!” He smiled savagely.
I fainted then.
They took me aboard that night. I tried to stab Alvarez, but they were too quick for me.
The hulk was a horrible rolling old tub. I was very sick at first, but I got used to the motion. I had a small cabin, furnished as barely as it could be. I was locked in it, except when I was let out for an hour daily to walk upon the side of the crazy old vessel, away from the shore. I could see part of Rosinas from a porthole of the cabin, but a grating was fixed so that I could not put my head outside. They brought me a miserable meal twice a day; refused me books or any work to pass the time; would not listen when I tried to tell them the truth about the young man Juan. Remember I was two-and-twenty—three-and-twenty, and that I loved amusements and gaiety. I chalked a draughtboard on the floor, and cut draughtsmen out of cloth and played against myself. Rough side against smooth side. I don't know why I didn't go mad.
I THOUGHT all day and very often all night of plans of escape, but could find none. I could have overpowered either the old man or the old woman, when they brought food. I would have faced without fear the hulking, half-witted man who was their only assistant. I should have my dinner knife, and be quicker than he. But, if I killed or overpowered them all, there was nowhere to fly to. We had no boat even. If my jailers wanted one, they had to signal to the shore.
I was in my prison for two years; saw a pale-faced, wide-eyed girl in the little glass over my washstand; saw the shore, and on the cliffs my great house that was, and a marble angel which had been erected, pointing upward over me. Once or twice I saw a vessel come in; but if I tried to call out, my jailers took me to a hold so that my cries could not be heard. A boat came out twice a week with provisions. Sometimes there were flocks of birds to watch. That was all.
After a while I persuaded the woman to let me go to the scullery to wash up the utensils after my meals, just for something to do. I obtained a few scraps of wood and scratched messages on them with pins and threw them into the sea, hoping they might reach some one. I hid a very sharp knife in my dress, took it to my cabin, and concealed it under the mattress. I thought that perhaps some day my husband would come to see me. However, he never did.
Thank Heaven he didn't, and I was saved from being a murderess. Though I don't think it would have been murder.
Illustration: “I shall not beat you,” my husband said. “Look out yonder at that old hulk. It shall be your home—-your prison—for the rest of your days!”
Then, two years and seventeen days after my imprisonment began—I had notched them on the washstand—a great gale arose, blowing offshore. The woman suggested that I wouldn't want to go for my walk in the wind and rain; but I went, rather late in the afternoon, with the darkness beginning before its time. I took the sharp knife under my waterproof. I could not see any one on deck. I crept forward and began sawing at the huge rope which held us to the anchor. If I could cut that we might be blown where we should meet some vessel. If not—to death! I did not see that I had much to lose.
WHEN I was halfway through the rope, I looked behind me for the third or fourth time. The huge, half-witted man stood quite near, watching me and grinning. I threatened him with the knife, but he shook his head and pointed to the cable.
“Cut it,” he said. “You can only escape to death. I'll die with you, beautiful señora!”
I moved back a little, still facing him and watching him, and cut away at the cable. Presently it parted. The boat lurched so violently that I fell over. The man picked me up, stroked my hair. I backed away from him, and just then the old man and woman rushed on deck. The half-witted giant stood between us, waving his arms. He would not let them approach me.
“We shall all be killed!” they cried.
“What does it matter?” I asked.
THE old man ran to the side of the vessel and waved to the shore with a flag, and the old woman with a tablecloth. Alvarez would pursue us in the motor boat, they declared; but the half-witted man laughed. The “puff-boat” was broken down, he chuckled; broken down! Apparently he was right. For, when dusk came, and we lost sight of the shore, it had not set out.
I stayed on deck, and the half-witted man brought me drink and food. He tried to caress me; cried when I pushed him away, and threatened him with the knife. I was so beautiful, he said. The poor pale thing that I had become!
At two o'clock in the morning the moon—nearly full—came out between the clouds. Then I saw a barren, reefy island in front of us. The old man and woman cried and prayed. The half-witted giant laughed. We missed it by a few yards, but felt the hull grate upon something. No doubt this started the leak which appeared afterward.
At three o'clock one of the two bare masts came down. Just after that I had something to eat, and went to bed, taking the key inside and locking the door.
Soon after daylight I was roused by some one knocking upon it.
“We are sinking, señora!” the big man cried. “Come on deck. We will drown together, and you will let me hold your hand.”
He seemed like a great child.
“Yes,” I said, “you shall hold my hand.”
I GAVE it to him then. I have always been glad that I did that. For, as we came to the steps to go up on deck the old man and the old woman rushed upon us with knives. The big man shielded me with his body; twisted the little man's neck, while the knives were in him. Then they both fell. The old woman knelt by her husband, and I by the half-witted man. I knew that he was dying.
“Hold my hand,” I told him. “Hold my hand!”
“Take all the knives from her first,” he gasped. “I—you are very beautiful, señora. I am honored that you hold my hand——”
It wasn't necessary to hold it very long.
Illustration: The yacht was making straight for the reef I decided to hide the knife and wait for a chance to plunge it into Alvarez
When he was gone, I went up on deck. I found the hulk low in the water. Evidently it was leaking badly, either from strain or from the damage when we struck. The seas swept the forepart of the deck which was lowest. There were some reefs ahead to one side. I clung to the tiller, and managed to steer us toward them. I thought that our only hope was to run aground, as we certainly should not keep afloat for long.
Then the woman came out with a great bar of iron. She chased me around the slippery deck. I fell. She raised the bar to bring it down on me; but then she also slipped, and fell. I got up, took the bar away and hurled it overboard. Then she sat on the deck and gibbered. Just after that we struck. The old woman was thrown down into the scuppers, and a moment later a wave washed her overboard.
We lay on the reef for a day, with the vessel breaking up slowly. There was a piece of rock, not covered by the sea, about twenty feet each way, lying underneath the bows. During the second night I lowered a basket, filled with what food and water I could find, to the rock and then a trunk filled with blankets and clothes, and threw down other things tied up in rugs. Then I managed to lower myself by a rope. I was very tired, so I covered myself up and slept.
IN the morning the ship was gone, and the storm; and on the horizon I saw the sail of a yacht. I knew it for my husband's—The Jennie, named after me.
I dragged my few belongings behind some boulders, and lay behind them myself, hoping that they might pass without noticing anything, but evidently I had been seen. The yacht made straight for the reef. I decided to hide the knife under my cloak, and wait for the chance to plunge it into Alvarez.
When he landed, hissing out cruel words and jeering, I sprang upon him. However, he put his arm between us, and I only wounded that. The two men who landed with him took the knife from me, and began to bind his arm. There were three men left in the boat, and I thought they looked unlovingly at him, and pityingly at me. I stepped into the boat.
“For the love of Heaven!” I cried. “If you are men——”
Suddenly one of them pushed the yacht off the reef, and into the wind, and we sailed away, leaving Alvarez and the other men swearing horribly.
They say that I tried to murder my husband, to run away with a man! But I have written down the exact truth—the whole truth just as it happened!
Illustration: I was in my prison for two years; saw the shore and on the cliffs my great house that was. Sometimes there were flocks of birds to watch. That was all
I told the men to take me to Videas, and they would be well rewarded. They did not say they wouldn't, and they were very civil and respectful in their manner, but I saw them continually looking at one another. I knew that they meant to take me somewhere else—somewhere where I should be in their power.
At nightfall they anchored just off a little island. They went ashore, and left me in the boat. They sat down on the beach, lit a candle and began playing with a pack of cards. I knew that I was the stakes.
I pushed the boat out with an oar, and pulled up the little sail in front. The wind took it, and I sailed away. The small sail did not carry me very fast, and one man plunged into the water and swam after me. I struck at him with the oar and drove him off. Then I got the big sail up a little way. There was only a very slight wind, and we sailed gently into the dusk. I had no idea where.
I kept dozing at the helm and waking with a start, fancying that Alvarez had come upon me. The first thing I did every time I roused was to stare into the darkness for a vessel; and I always thought of it as a pursuer, not a rescuer.
Just after dawn I awoke; and there was a vessel—a biggish steam launch—quite near and making for my boat. There were two men in it and they were both shouting. I gave a scream that sounded appalling even to me.
“I'll kill myself!” I cried. “I——”
And then I stopped. For neither of the men was Alvarez. The one steering was my brother. The other was a big fair-haired merchant officer. His face was working and he threw up his arms.
“My girl!” he cried. “My girl! You're all right! My poor girl!”
It was my sailor!
“You!” I said. “You! And Jack! I'm all right now.”
I DROPPED to the seat and clung to the gunwale. I don't think I quite fainted, but I can't remember the next things very distinctly. I recollect my sailor holding me tightly, stroking my hair, and I think kissing it, and my brother taking me away from him.
I slept most of the way to Videas, lying in the cabin covered with rugs. It opened into the well. The men talked to me from there, in my waking intervals—my sailor seemed to be watching me, whenever I opened my eyes—and he told me how they had come to rescue me. It was really through the sailor. He was second-mate now, he said, with a first-mate's certificate, and going to “sit” for a captain's ticket soon. He had been to the village and learned that I had gone to Videas, got a berth on a ship that called there, and found out from my brother that I had married Alvarez and moved to Rosinas. Then, he said, he gave up thought of me, but decided to go on rising in his profession, because he liked it.
Recently he had visited Videas again, and heard the report of my death. He had a fancy to see my grave. My brother decided to go with him. They hired a launch for the purpose, and crossed—it was about sixty miles—as soon as the gale went. They arrived the day after the hulk broke away, and a few hours after Alvarez had set out in pursuit of it.
The truth about my imprisonment had always been suspected in the island; and Alvarez had talked when the hulk went in the gale. My brother did not really believe the rumor that I was alive and a prisoner in the hulk, but decided to investigate, anyway.
They found Alvarez on the reef, learned what had happened to me, and set out upon my track. They had refused to bring him, but had left him some provisions, and promised to send a vessel to take him off.
“He had food enough for a day or two,” my brother said, the morning after we came to Videas. “We sha'n't send for him until tomorrow morning. You must get off in the steamer this afternoon.”
“You mean that you couldn't keep me from him, if I stayed here?” I suggested.
“I mean,” my brother said slowly, “that he seemed to have some sort of blood-poisoning from his wound. If anything happened, and they tried you out here—— You know what would happen! You'd better go. It's the only sensible thing to do. There's another thing, Jennie, that you mustn't do. For Heaven's sake don't tell Kaye”—that was my sailor—“that you are going, or where. If he went with you, or followed you up, they'd say that—— Well, you know what they'd say. I'll get you on the President quietly this afternoon. I shall call you Mrs. Brown.”
I went on the President, and home to Bransley. Grandfather had died. The others gave me what he had put in the will for me before he thought I was dead, and took me out of it. So I had just enough to live on. Jack wrote that Alvarez had I recovered from his wound. I did not hear from George Kaye. I thought it was because I was married. After a year I received news that Alvarez had died and that he had never altered the will which he had made when we were first married, leaving everything to me. So I was a rich woman—and free. I did not mind taking the money. I thought it only partly recompensed me for what I had suffered.
I expected that Kaye would come then, but he did not; and men kept asking me to marry them. I had almost decided to accept the squire's son—he was the squire now—when I happened to pick up one of the weekly illustrated papers; I saw a portrait—“Captain George Kaye!” He had been awarded a silver medal for saving one of his sailors who I fell overboard!
The paper mentioned his ship. I wrote a letter to him, in care of the owners. I said:
    Dear Captain Kaye,
    Congratulations on your title, and on your bravery.
    I have often wished to thank you for your kindness to me. Your courageous action—how greatly I admire it!—has given me the opportunity of learning your address.
    I suppose you understood why I went away so suddenly and secretly? It was my brother's plan, and I asked him to convey I my best wishes and gratitude to you. I had hoped that some day you would come to see me alive, as you thought me worth bringing a flower to when I was dead! Anyhow, I have and always shall have the kindliest recollection of you.
Yours sincerely Jean Alvarez.
    P. S. I hate the surname, although I try not to hate my husband, now that he is dead.
Of course I wrote the letter principality to mention Alvarez's death. If you like, you can say that I was a pirate of George.
FOR a few weeks after I sent the letter I was very cheerful and always ran expectantly to meet the postman. Then I began to worry that perhaps “my sailor”—I always thought of him as that—was dead or ill, or that the letter had gone astray. Naturally it occurred to me that perhaps he didn't want me now; but at first I didn't worry about that. His affection for me seemed just part of my idea of him.
After a month, however, I did worry; I grew nervous and a trifle snappy; told myself that I must be a sensible woman and put him right out of my head. I was telling myself that one afternoon coming home along the lane where he had walked with me, when around the bend came in sight of a big fair-bearded merchant officer.
I stopped for a moment and clutched at my blouse with both hands. There seemed to be no breath in the air, and the tree edges seemed to be swaying. Then he gave a great shout. I thought perhaps that was how men-angels cried out when first they were that!
“Jean!” he called. “I only landed last night—and here I am!”
“And here you are!” I said, laughing and crying at once.
He ran toward me. I tried to run to him, but could only stagger till he caught me in his arms—in his big arms!
“My girl!” he shouted out. “Mine!”
“Yours!” I gasped. “Yours!” I clung to him. “I think that that is what I was born to be!”
Is that the way a pirate of men would behave?
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1933, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 90 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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