Henry Blackthorn was a thickset man with long greasy hair and an equally black beard that hung well down his chest. His ship, the Dark Queen, proudly flew the jolly roger and was anchored alongside the Temperance. From what Captain Jim Matthews could see the pirate ship had the look of a craft that had seen many battles but won the vast majority. More than that, it boasted an array of guns that could sink any trade ship and in keeping with this, Blackthorn looked like a man who had no difficulty in giving an order to open fire on a relatively lightly armed foe. There had never been the slightest question, given all the circumstances, that Matthews' damaged and undermanned ship could even begin to fight off a boarding party.

"My lucky day," Blackthorn grinned as he settled into the chair in Matthews cabin. "Finding a slave trader up here among these wretched islands and lyin' there all wallowin' an' helpless. Makes you think there's some kind god lookin' down on me an' smiling." He grinned, showing a couple of missing teeth.

Jim Matthews said nothing. He stood with his wrists in the same sort of manacles that the slaves wore to remind them not to make trouble, though the pistols laid on the charts on his desk in front of the pirate were enough to tell Matthews he wouldn't get far if he did make trouble. There were also two of Blackthorn's men stood behind Matthews and he had no doubt even the slightest suspicious movement would result in a blow from a pistol butt or the flat of cutlass blade.

"Ship's cat got yer tongue?" sneered Blackthorn. He reached for a bottle of Matthews' wine on the desk and squinted at the label. "French, hey? Doin' some business with the Frenchies up the St Lawrence, huh? Or maybe your slave are all little frogs?" He didn't wait for an answer, spat noisily and put the bottle to his lips. He took a large gulp and belched. Then he drank again.

"What are you going to do with my slaves," said Matthews when the pirate had put the bottle down and noisily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Your slaves is now my slaves," grunted Blackthorn. "Or you goin' to argue the toss with me?"

"Not in a position to argue," said Matthews.

"You got that right, what with you bein' asleep like you was in port." The man belched again, before he continued. "No one on watch and you never saw us coming round the headland." Blackthorn raised one eyebrow, or what was a mere suggestion of it because of a white scar where it should have been. "Never saw us."

"My crew were out hunting, or repairing the ship."

Blackthorn grunted. "Well, it's my ship now. I'll take some of the slaves, the prettier ones, and you can take the rest under my flag to a port I know where they won't ask questions. Then your ship is mine, unless you want to sign up with me."

"I do not wish to be a pirate," said Matthews, grimly. "I'm an honest slave trader."

Blackthorn cracked a laugh. "Kids, that's what you sell. How comes that be honest? Now if you were sellin' rum... That'd be honest business." The pirate waved his hand. "You even been havin' some of them slaves 'ere in your cabin, if those neck collars and chains is what I think they's for. On yer bed too." Blackthorn chortled a laugh and the two men who stood behind Matthews chortled too in response but they fell quiet as their captain leaned forward and glared at Matthews. "In fact I be thinkin' that you do this child slavery jes' so you can get your end away, hey? Your knob in a tender cuntlet."

"I don't do that," said Matthews but another glare from Blackthorn made him think he wasn't required to reply.

"Well, you ain't be doin' it anymores," said Blackthorn and his frowning face suddenly relaxed into a grin. "But maybe I be doin' it. Me an' me crew. I believe in shares alike. Keeps a crew loyal an' happy." At this there was an appreciative gurgle from the two men stood behind Matthews. They clearly liked the idea.

The statement came as no surprise to Matthews. He was aware of the way pirates worked. The navy and the merchant fleet relied on a combination of discipline and bribes among their respective crews, but pirates did it differently. They had far more equality among their men - and women too, for some of the fiercest pirates were female - and a policy of sharing prizes that guaranteed they had something to fight for and not mutiny. Some said that was why royalty and governments hated pirates; not for what they took or did but because they fostered a spirit of democracy among their numbers that went against the established politics of power and privilege. Catching pirates and hanging them was a way of saying you can be equal only one way.

Blackthorn seemed in a good mood and took another swig of the wine on the table, then he tossed the bottle to one of the two pirates near Matthews. "Take that, see if the crew likes it and I am sure the Captain here has some more in his larder. Share it out, lads, and make sure them slaves stays under lock and key until we convene a meetin' to decide who has what from them. Now leave me an' this so called slave trader here to have a little friendly chat about life an' death."

"Aye Cap'n," said the one who had caught the bottle. The two men turned and left Blackthorn and closed the cabin door behind them. Blackthorn grunted and looked at the chart spread on the desk. He moved one of the pistols and looked closer. He shook his head slowly. "Your destination, captain... I hear the price of slaves there ain't be good at the moment. Now, as it happens I know a place further south that's gettin' a better price. Or at least, those that I don't want on board the Dark Queen." He looked up and Matthews was startled. There was something different about the man. Still bearded, still thickset but a shade lighter skin tone, a little less rough looking. A trick of the light, Matthews thought.

The pirate stood up and Matthews gasped. The man seemed thinner and somehow his beard was a little shorter and less wild. Blackthorn grinned as if recognising Matthews' look. He nonetheless picked up one of the two pistols and marched past the manacled Captain to the man's bed. He turned and grinned again at Matthews. "You think if I blow a hole in your bed you could sleep well in it tonight." Blackthorn's voice was softer, less harsh. He seemed a shade thinner.

"No!" Matthews started forward. "Please... don't shoot at my bed. It's... It's a waste of a ball and powder."

"A waste?" Blackthorn's voice was sexier somehow. "I think not, Mr Matthews. I mean, the ball will pass through the sheets and into the empty space underneath, am I not correct? No harm done."

Matthews stared at the pirate and couldn't believe the man was less rough, less gruff than a few minutes ago. But he was aiming his pistol at the bed and looked as if he would fire. Matthews turned, leapt to the desk and grabbed the other pistol and levelled it at Blackthorn. "I don't know what's going on," he said, "but you pull that trigger and I pull mine."

"You think I would have left a loaded pistol on that table?" Blackthorn laughed. It was a soft, almost feminine laugh. More, his beard had almost shrunk to nothing and the man's face was softer and gentler. Even his missing eyebrow had reappeared. A delicately arched eyebrow. The man flashed a smile at Matthews and his perfect teeth gleamed. "You think Mr Matthews I would be unprepared alone in a rome with you?"

"Please, don't shoot," gasped Matthews, his mind in a fog. He lowered his pistol and tossed in on to the long table in front of him. It slid down the length and came to rest against one of the loose ropes lying on it.

"Then open it and let me see what's underneath." The man who said it didn't look like a man anymore. No beard, no unkempt black hair. Slimmer, softer, sounding more like a woman would. Even the hand that gripped the pistol was more elegant.

"Who are you?" Croaked Matthews. "What are you?" He stared at the man who had grown breasts who flicked his long black hair like a woman would.

"I am Henrietta Blackthorn. Sometimes captain of the Dark Queen. But a dark queen is what I am. A shapeshifter, I call myself, though some would say witch." The woman, because it was a woman now and not a man, smiled. "Not always easy being a pirate captain when you wear skirts. Now, sir, if you would so good as to reveal what - or should I say who - you keep under your bed, I would be grateful."

Matthews gulped, stared again at the very feminine pirate in front of him and stepped forward. He knelt, slid back the panel at the front and helped out the two Pensford girls, assisting the still chained Lady Marian from the narrow space underneath and then helping little Theresa out, who had no chains. The two girls stood and stared at Henrietta Blackthorn and she stared back.

Then, at the same moment, both Marian and Henrietta as one said, "fuck."

--

"The Lady Marian is not what you think," said Henrietta as she sat and looked the two girls up and down where they were fastened to the bulkhead. Then the pirate looked at Matthews, who was visibly shaking where he sat.

"I don't understand," said Matthews, who looked like a man whose world had fallen apart.

"I am sure you don't." Henrietta toyed with her pistol where it lay by her hand. "I have to admit that seeing this one," she nodded towards the more heavily chained Marian, "shook my faith a little too."

"But you're not a man," said Matthews, suddenly angry. "You change from a woman to man and back."

"For good reason. And this little woman isn't what she seems. She changes too, or did. I suspect she is more stuck in her current place and body than she might want right now. She is in fact an older woman. Oh, she's Marian alright. A Pensford indeed, but then the Pensfords are notorious witches. She was, the last time I saw her, aged about twenty five or so. As that was five years back I can see she has done well to maintain her youth, you might say. But she is thirty if she is a day. An educated woman, but a witch and shapeshifter too." Henrietta looked long and hard at the seeming 11 year old, who she had taken the precaution of gagging with the scold's bridle.

"And Theresa," said Matthews, unsure if he might be losing his mind. "What of her?"

"Theresa is Marian's daughter, not her sister. I have yet to determine if she has any of her mother's talent, but she is bit-gagged for my peace of mind. A silent witch has far less power."

"I do not believe any of this. It defies logic."

"So too does a storm that arises swiftly and damages your ship in reach of these islands. A powerful spell, and not one I might associate with our Lady Marian. But I have my suspicions. I felt an energy brew up at sea a few days ago, and turned my ship this way. You see, Mr Matthews, creating spells makes an echo and I had felt there was something I had not expected on the open seas. A power unleashed beyond the normal range of nature. Whether I was sensing a witch nearby I cannot be sure, only Marian can answer that and I have no intention of allowing her to speak. I would hate her to shapeshift out of her child-like condition. You see, Captain, the iron on her manacles and especially at her throat suppress that. The iron spike in her mouth is even better to halt her witching talents. Without knowing it you have helped contain a witch and prevent a greater force. For what may be ev--" Suddenly Henrietta's face darkened. "Tell me, did you fuck the little one? Or indeed, either of them?"

"No!" Matthews snapped. "I do not fuck the girls I am going to sell, not in the cunt anyway. But..." his voice softened. "I was about to fuck Theresa when you attacked."

A look of relief crossed Henrietta's face. "I was in time then. The cannonball into your ship was the best I could do to draw any attention from what danger I sensed existed. I could not be sure but I feared something unsafe would be happening. Had our aim not been true and had you put your seed in her she would have started on the path to being a witch, like her mother. A witch, you see, must draw energy from men, and a man's willing semen offers the most concentrated power."

"I bumfucked them both," confessed Matthews, suddenly feeling bad. "And used their mouths."

Henrietta sighed. "Your emission into their back holes and throats will have helped their powers. I suspect that was why Marian here was so eager to drink your sperm, so she could summon a storm. But the change she wanted was her daughter to be seeded in her presence. That fucking, that deflowering would have given them both great power. You may have made some mistakes here but you did not make the biggest one."

"And what would these two do if I had shot my load into the little one's cunt?"

"The semen would have stimulated her darkest strengths but the blood release would have confirmed her power. She would have become a full witch, and that would have fed Marian. You see, a mother and daughter combination has the power to wreak havoc. It is rare in witchery to see this as most witches do not wish to have a rival, for all joining in magic must become division later. Your offspring, if empowered, become greater than you. It is why I have never had a child, though the spirits know I had ample opportunity. That is also why I shapeshift to a coarse and somewhat brutal man. It helps my crew and protects me from unwanted attention."

Matthews nodded, though he wasn't sure he understood all this. He took a deep breath and tried to organise his mind. "You said you saw Marian in the past. Where?"

"A convocation. All witches must meet. A sharing of resolve; it helps keep our arts alive. We have gatherings and exchange energies, transmute dark energies that might otherwise build and destroy us. Marian Pensford was at one I attended. But that was the only time I saw her, and when I saw her with her small child I felt a chill in me that has troubled me since. She saw me and understood me, because she knows I can do what she can't. I can shapeshift to male, but she can only stay in her sex. Yet, she has lapsed into some darker ways and having retreated to a child she is reluctant to emerge from that."

"Captain Gordon is looking for her."

Henrietta's eyes widened. "Angus Gordon? The Scottish witchfinder?" The woman sat forward and a bead of sweat had appeared on her pretty brow, under her black hair. "He is here?"

"Gordon is all I know. She said he was a naval captain and hell bent of finding her." Briefly, Matthews related the stories Marian had told him. "She feared him sailing after her, but we have not seen him. I fear he will have located our point of departure and readied a ship to follow."

"As well he might," Henrietta had hold of the pistol, and she looked grim. "Angus Gordon is indeed a naval captain but he also has a secret skill the nation and its corrupt church uses. He is dedicated to finding and slaying witches. His interest in the Pensfords means he knows of her, or suspects she and her daughter are prizes he must seize. He would plan to capture, torture and extract a confession from both. Then they would be executed in the heaviest iron he could lock on them, and the iron melted down and thrown into the deepest part of the seas along with what was left of their bodies." Henrietta shuddered at the thought.

"Why did she want, if you are right about the storm, to make landfall here? We are a long way from a port."

Henrietta shrugged. "The ways of witches differ from one to another, and with it so do their reasonings. But Marian would not want to stay in fetters as closeness with iron is not her way. Nor would she be happy to be the slave of someone. She needs to escape Gordon, you know that. Finding land here in the northern Americas would allow her to disappear for a while, perhaps learn from some of the native shamans in the great forests."

"I should ask, though I am scared to do so, what power would she have unleashed against me and my crew?" Matthews didn't want to look at the two girls as they seemed to be glaring at him.

"I know not. No witch knows what resides in another witch's innermost being. She may have allowed you to sail on, or destroyed your ship somehow. However she would have known you would be blamed by Gordon for your part in her and her daughter's escape and thus you may have met an early end. Gordon does not take kindly to those who aid what he sees as the devil."

"And are you of the devil?" Matthews sounded fearful.

"No, Mr Matthews, I am not. Witches perform many functions, aiding nature and encouraging growth and understanding. At times we have openly consorted with the church and the kingdom for good. But there are jealousies in the church, people in power who want us stopped because it enables their own power to grow. The King has courtiers who mostly know nothing of us and our ways, though some do. Sadly the ones who believe witchery can assist the nation have been eliminated from the King's inner council. We have become a dark force when not all of us are. We are hunted and slain and our iron burnt in the hope our powers will diminish. That they will wither is a given, under the cold gaze of the church that no longer serves people's hopes but instead seeks to implant fear."

"You became a pirate because you are a witch who can hide on the open seas or among its islands?"

Henrietta laughed. "No, sir, I became a pirate because my father was asked to do so by the King. I continue the family tradition of disrupting French and Spanish shipping, yet political niceties now mean we are hunted by the nation that appointed us. A British yardarm is no different to that of France or Spain these days, even though they all have been at war and may well be again. I am no fortune teller, but sensible gold would wager on rivalry spilling over again."

Matthews thought about this and had to agree it was likely. Eventually he said: "So what do we do with these two?" He gestured at the two chained and silenced girls. "If they are threat when fucked then I cannot guard them every day."

"They are a threat if fucked, that is true. You have a smith on board?" when Matthews nodded Henrietta went on. "Then order him to make them chastity belts, with iron plugs at both holes. Lock them into those belts and destroy the key."

At this both females at the wall rattled their chains in anger and made moaning sounds into their gags. Matthews ignored them. "And what of their mouths? Won't they speak ill or seek to persuade me to free them?"

"You have choices to make, as we all do. The bridle on both though will do well, and separate them by an iron rod at the throat so they may not touch. Mother and daughter intimacy helps their powers. If they are plugged and silent and hampered by iron at wrist and ankle they pose less threat. As for food, should you wish to keep them alive, have your smith make an iron tube that inserts into their mouths too. Water and foodstuffs mashed down can be pushed in."

"You think," and at this Matthews became alarmed, "I would want to kill them?"

Henrietta Blackthorn regarded him for a moment. "No, they have your heart. I sense you see them not as threat but as lovers. Be that as it may, you need to think about your ship if you care for it. The Temperance will never be truly yours while they are here. Nor will the sailing ever be smooth."

"It is your ship now."

Henrietta shook her head. "No. You are released from my capture. However I will, as I said in my male being, claim some of your slaves fro the crew. A few boys, a few girls. They will be ours and perhaps in time make pirate crew themselves. Oh, and I will take some of your excellent wine. I do so get sick of rum," laughed Henrietta. Then she grew serious. "Naturally I fear Gordon capturing these two and them revealing my identity, but they are not the first to see it and I will hope the courses of the Dark Queen and whatever frigate Gordon commands will never cross. He has more than enough to keep him occupied nearer his homeland than scouring the far waters of the Atlantic, especially if war breaks out with another naval power. He will seek witches only when the cannons are not roaring in the Channel."

Henrietta stood and looked at the two silent, chained and glowering young females. "In another time I might have bedded one or both of these children. There is a passion in sex with the young that transcends time and space; it invigorates the loins of both men and women and I can do both, though I prefer my natural self to enjoy the same sex affections, I have to admit. A girl's touch in a woman's slit is beyond belief, a female child's lips on your nipples is a delight only a woman can know. Likewise my fingers in her holes. Ah, bliss... But I am a witch and I must preserve my power, just as you must preserve your ship. Have them iron plugged and may the best of tides and a fair wind fall to you, Captain Matthews."

Before his astonished eyes the woman began to morph into a man again. A black beard appeared and grew rapidly and what was a soft female figure became bulkier. The light, smooth skin of Henrietta became the rough, scarred flesh of Henry, and what was a pretty female face became a tough, weathered man's visage. Sadly Henrietta's breasts shrank and disappeared and her belly swelled out, as a man's might. The smooth hands of the woman became the rough hands of the man. She, or now he, grunted to Matthews and tipped a salute to him and pushing his two pistols into his belt the thickset man left the cabin. Matthews could hear Henry Blackthorn bellowing gruff orders to his crew, telling them to get the slaves and the wine and get ready to cast off.

Matthews stared at the door and at the two silenced girls who stared back at him. He wasn't sure what to do, but he would think of something, he was sure, now that he had the Temperance back.