The Adventures of Captain Jacquotte: The Marquis’s Coat

I suggest you read this in Story Mode. They spy her topsails an hour before sunset: a naval ship flying a gold fleur-de-lis on a field of blue, running west under dark clouds, white canvas full and taut. Bastien wants to close at once but Jacquotte has other ideas. “In this light, with that sea running? We’ll lose half the men attempting to board,” she tells him. “She isn’t going anywhere we can’t follow.” Instead of moving in to attack, she orders her ship onto a parallel course, maintaining her position a few miles off. They keep pace with the Frenchman while the sun sinks below the horizon. Then she does something that has old Gaspard shaking his head. She orders lanterns lit and the black flag run up, where the French can see it. “A pirate showing a light and colours,” Gaspard mutters. “Now I’ve seen everything.” “Let them watch it all night,” says Jacquotte. “A man who hasn’t slept is a poor shot in the morning.” Across the water the French captain lowers his telescope and doubles his watch. Nobody aboard his ship will close their eyes tonight, exactly as she hopes. At first light, Jacquotte gives the order to close. “Now we attack, Gaspard.” Her first broadside tears through rigging and canvas rather than timber; there is no profit in sinking that which you mean to plunder. The two ships grind together, the sea heaving up white between them, and grappling lines snake across and draw tight. Jacquotte doesn’t wait for the boarding planks. Sword drawn and pistol firing, she leads the charge across the churning, volatile waters, leaping aboard their prey. Bastien, a step behind, would swear afterwards that she cleared the gap with a yard to spare. Gaspard, who saw it too, says she very nearly went in. Truth matters little, her legend grows, as her crew follow her into battle. The soldiers manning the defences are drilled men, a disciplined fighting force, and they meet her with bayonets levelled. But they have stood a long night’s watch and now pay the price. The fighting is brutal hand-to-hand combat that rolls from the waist to the quarterdeck before they are subdued. The French captain, red-eyed and furious, hands over his sword. In the hold they find what the rumours promised: a chest of minted gold and silver coin, bound for the King of France’s treasury. The marquis travelling as its escort suffers a more personal loss; Jacquotte strips him of his coat of deep red velvet, heavy with gold embroidery. “Suits you better than it did him,” Bastien observes. “Most things do,” she laughs. She leaves the French, their pride and ship in tatters, with sufficient provisions to limp home. Loaded with their plundered wealth, they sail away, knowing full well the survivors will tell another tale of piracy on the high seas. Three days later, with nothing but empty sea around them, the problem is no longer how to take a fortune but how to keep it. Jacquotte knows word of the pillaging of the King’s vessel and the spoils seized will spread like wildfire through every port in the Caribbean. Then every buccaneer and rival crew will be hunting for her, hoping to relieve her of it. Treasure carried aboard can be lost in a single violent encounter. Late into the night, in the flickering warmth of her quarters, Jacquotte considers options, seeking a secret place to stash the hoard. Bastien jabs a finger at a cove he swears no ship has entered in ten years. Ten years. He’d said the same about his last suggestion, and they’d found a Dutch sloop careening on its beach. Gaspard leans on his knuckles and says nothing, which is his way of disagreeing. “Too close to the passage,” Jacquotte says at last. Gaspard grunts. Bastien throws up his hands. “Then you choose, Captain. You will anyway.” She does. She settles on a remote island, pointing it out on the map. No mark is made on the chart spread before them. She dismisses her men and memorises the coordinates. They know the routine well. This is not the captain’s first hiding place and it won’t be her last, and every one of them remains locked in her mind and nowhere else. The ship drops anchor in the lee of the island in the late afternoon. A single boat pulls for the shore with the captain, her two trusted men and one iron-bound chest that threatens to sink the longboat. The rest of the crew stay aboard under orders. If they grumble, they do it quietly; their shares will come when the captain says so, and not a day before. It’s an hour’s hard walk inland, through undergrowth that tears at sleeves and boots, before they find a suitable clearing, deep in the jungle. Someone has been here before them. A weathered skull lies half-swallowed by roots at the edge of the clearing, and Gaspard crosses himself as he steps past it. “Leave it be,” Jacquotte tells him. “It’ll keep the curious and superstitious away.” With the tide turning and daylight fading, Jacquotte watches closely to ensure their hard-won plunder is buried deep, beyond any chance of accidental discovery. The two men drive their spades into the damp earth, the chest waiting beside the deepening hole. “Next time, Captain,” Bastien puffs, “we bury it on the beach.” “So the tide can wash it away?” retorts Jacquotte. “Keep digging until I tell you to stop!” With the chest safely buried, they sail away, leaving the island in their wake. The crew celebrate with extra rum rations, laughing and singing long into the night. They know the day will come when the captain decides they have amassed sufficient wealth to retire. But that day is a long way off. Somewhere beyond the horizon another ship is crossing the open sea, her captain never suspecting they will be Captain Jacquotte’s next prize. The story was inspired by shorter descriptions added to images created for am NC DC. I created additional images and prompted Claude to flesh out a first draft. I used that as a departure point, reworked before final back-and-forth in Claude. The title suggests more to come. What do you think? Would you like another adventure featured Jacquotte, Gaspard and Bastien? Let me know in the comments. As always, I'll be grateful for 20 claps towards the 500 claps reward.