Esme, The Pirate Ship's Cat(Elaine Faber) Esme, The Pirate Ships’ Cat


A metal bucket crashed to the ground inches from the startled cat as she snatched a small fish from the display case.

“Scram! Witch from Hell! Begone, I say, and don’t come back!”

The shopkeeper reached for the bucket to throw it again. Esme escaped out the door with the fish clenched in her teeth.

Esme slunk behind boxes and barrels on the cluttered street, a safe distance from the fish market. She chose a packing box somewhat out of sight from the street and ate her stolen fish.

Her pink raspy tongue licked first one sticky foot and then the other. With the dampened foot, she swept it across her ears and down the side of her thin black face, carefully swiping each white whisker. She repeated the process until every trace of fish smell was cleaned from her face. She licked each shoulder and down her back, finishing up with the delicate area around her nether parts until her ebony body glistened in the bright morning sunlight. Her hunger was temporarily satisfied and she was clean from head to toe. She curled her body into the center of a coiled rope and fell asleep.

For a time, Esme slept soundly, lost in tranquil blackness. Sounds from the neighborhood cut through the darkness and the cat blinked open her eyes to survey her surroundings.

Near the box where she slumbered, oxen trudged down the street, hauling wagonloads of goods from nearby towns and the neighboring countryside. A drunken sailor staggered down the road, clutching a goatskin wine bota slung over one shoulder. He paused near the cat, uncorked the cap and lifted the bota to his lips. Wine spilled down his chin onto the front of his leather jerkin. He corked the bota, tossed it onto his back and staggered toward the dock where the colorful sails of a frigate billowed in the breeze. The sound of the flapping sails brought to mind the voyages she had taken over the past 6 years.

She was a ship’s cat. Ships did not leave the harbor until an experienced ship’s cat was safely aboard. The ship needed a cat to kill the rats that found their way aboard. Without a skilled ratter, the ship could be overrun with rats and potential disease.

Esme was a much sought after, experienced ratter. She must be alert, lest she be caught and shanghaied onto a ship so overrun with rats even an experienced ratter could not control them. She would choose the ship that assured a pleasant journey with good food and kind sailors. Regardless whether it was a legitimate merchant ship or a pirate vessel, a clean ship was more important than its legitimacy.

Esme recognized a ship in the harbor she wished to avoid. However, the bright red sails on the pirate ship next to it caught her attention. She watched as a sailor played a reed flute and danced a jig while his companions clapped and stomped to the music. The sound of laughter floated across the harbor. She had made her choice. This was the ship for her.

Esme turned to scratch at a flea lodged on the small of her back. With her neck twisted backward toward the elusive flea and her attention riveted to the itch just out of reach, she did not hear the approach of the dirty sailor. The world went dark and reeked of sour oats when a sack dropped over her head and she was suspended upside down. She had let down her guard for only a moment and now she was a prisoner.

“Gottcha, ye’ little she-devil! I’ll be spendin’ me gold tonight when I give ye’ to the cappin’. I heared' yer’ the best ratter in town. Cappin’ll be mighty pleased!”

Esme slung from side to side in the dark sack as the sailor staggered up the gangplank to his ship. He flung his prize into a dark hold and slammed the deck lid.

Esme clawed open the sack. Her eyes soon adjusted to the dark. She could see boxes and bales stacked around her prison. She heard a scratching sound in the corner and froze. Her whiskers twitched and her nose trembled. The unmistakable odor of “rat” wafted across the room. The rat moved again in the darkness. Esme zeroed in on its location; on top of the bale, slightly to the right from where she stood. Her left ear twitched, calculating the distance, the elevation, the amount of thrust necessary, every nerve taunt and leaped to the top of the bale. In one fluid movement, she grabbed the back of the rat’s neck and sunk her teeth through its spine. The thing lay dead on the bale in less time than it takes to tell. Disgusting!

The dark hold was silent. Perhaps it was the only rat in the hold, or the others had fled in terror! To find a rat almost immediately upon boarding the ship suggested it was already overrun with vermin. The journey on such a ship would be a nightmare! She must escape at the first opportunity or she would be trapped aboard for the duration.

Esme lay in darkness throughout the night. Hunger and thirst gnawed at her stomach but she did not want to eat the filthy rat in the corner. Lice and fleas crawled on its body and she would only eat the thing as a last resort.

The door of the hold screeched open and Esme blinked in the sudden brightness. Sunlight streamed down from the square hold above her head.

“Hey, cat, air’ ye’ hungry?” She could see the outline of a head against the sky. Esme hunkered out of sight in the shadow of a box.

“Cappin’ says I otter’ feed ye,’” he said, holding out a chunk of bread as a peace offering.

Esme looked longingly at the bread but her determination to get off the rat-infested vessel was stronger than her hunger. She crouched and leaped toward the crack of sunshine that spelled freedom. Her toes caught the lip of the deck and she hung suspended for a moment, and then pulled herself upward, scrabbling to get a purchase with her back feet. The sailor was caught unawares until he realized that he was about to lose his prize. Esme’s body was already on the deck when the sailor slammed the lid down, catching the end of her tail. Esme shrieked in pain, clawing the air. The lid of the deck had nearly sliced through her tail, two inches from the end. Frantic to free herself, she pulled with all her strength. The last bit of her tail muscle and skin tore in two. She raced across the deck, leaving a trail of blood as she ran down the gangplank and through the town.

Finally overcome by exhaustion, she could run no further. She sought refuge behind a pile of wood, eyes dilated, her body heaving with the pain in the end of her tail. She licked the stub until the bleeding stopped. Trembling with pain and dizzy from loss of blood, she slept.

Esme lay behind the pile of wood for a full day, feverish, weakened by hunger, thirst and pain, nursing the stub of her tail.

“What’s this? Air’ ye’ ailin’ there, cat? Poor thing, let me look at ye.’”

Esme heard the soothing voice and her head shook with the effort to lift it. She tried to pull away, but the hand that touched her head was gentle. She was in such need, both physically and emotionally, she was unable to reject the kindness and sympathy. The sailor gathered the little cat in his arms and Esme responded to his touch with an instinctive purr. He carried her aboard the pirate ship and gently washed her wound and applied a healing salve. He fed her tiny spoonfuls of sugar and milk. Within an hour, strengthened by the nourishment, Esme could hold her head up.

“Ye’ll be missin’ part a’ yer’ tail, but I doubt it be keepin’ ye’ from yer’ duties,” the captain joked, stroking the cat’s head. “Folks say she’s the best ratter in town. We be blessed to have her aboard, if she lives.”

“She live, all right,” replied the First Mate. “I’ll make sure a’ that!”

With the First Mate’s good care, Esme’s tail healed.

The pirate ship sailed and Esme made friends among the crew. They jealously vied for her attention and gloated when she seemed to favor one above the other. There was little else to entertain the men.

“She be wavin’ her flag to me this fine mornin,’ I think she be favorin’ me most this trip.” a sailor called to his friend.

“Nah! She be sleepin’ in me bunk last night. She favors me most.” his friend replied, shoving his mate.

“Yer’ a liar! She follered’ me to the mess last night. She knows I be the one who gives her treats. She favors me!” The scruffy pirate struck his opponent with calloused knuckles. He roared an oath and flung himself at his friend. They struggled, kicking and punching, until both landed on their backs on the deck.

The captain grabbed the men by the collar and drug them to their feet.
“If I be seein’ any more fightin’ amongst ye’ over this here cat, I’ll fling it overboard! Do ye’ hear me? I’ll allow no fightin.’ There’s time enough for fightin’ when we come upon a pretty vessel loaded with fine goods just askin’ for the takin’. I’ll not have ye’ laid up with a busted jaw from fightin’ over a she-cat!”

Esme sat on top of the captain’s deck, preening her short tail, pretending she couldn’t understand the captain’s rant. The look in her eyes was as impish as a black devil from hell. This trip had turned out delightfully. There weren’t many rats to kill on board; just enough to keep her entertained on a boring afternoon. She had the ship’s crew twisted around one of the six toes on her front foot, each crew member sought her favor with attention and treats. The weather was fine and her tail only ached on foggy days. Life was good.

As the trip progressed, the pirate ship attacked frigates loaded with tea, fine linens, jewelry and chests of gold coins on their way from Spain to New England. The pirates sailed away, leaving the merchant ships unharmed when the prize was taken.

Nevertheless, the ship merchants complained bitterly to the King and he sent his sailors to the trade route to put an end to their piracy.

On a particular day in May 1789, Esme slept on a water barrel near the rail, half listening to the sound of the waves sloshing on the side of the ship. A light breeze fluttered the sails. The crew was jubilant, having captured a merchant ship the day before and had celebrated late into the night, drinking from casks of rum taken from the hold of the captured ship. Captain had allowed them to sleep late this morning with only a minimal watch crew. The fog hung heavy over the sea and visibility was poor.

The King’s ship approached off the port side, nearly hidden in the surrounding fog. Without warning, a cannon crashed through the wall of the unsuspecting pirate ship and water gushed through the hole. Though the crew roused quickly to their battle stations, the King’s ship sent volleys of cannons into the pirate ship, disabling their guns. The battle was quickly over. The pirate’s ship was sinking!

The acrid smell of gun power filled the air. Flames licked at the battered stairs to the top deck. Pirates beat at the flames, screaming obscenities, as though the fire could be scared into submission by their curses.

Esme slunk lower behind the barrel, her body trembling and her heart beating wildly. There was a “whoosh,” as the topsail burst into flames. A cannon ball exploded through the railing. Shrieks of pain mingled with the crack of shattered wood. Mangled pieces of the bulkhead lay in pools of blood. Fire raged across the deck. The captain’s voice rang through the chaos. “Abandon ship. The ship’s lost. All hands abandon ship!” Pirates dove from the railing and swam toward the lifeboat.

“Get the fresh water barrel and someone grab the cat. We’ll need its good luck if we’re to survive. The ship’s doomed!”

The cat hurtled through the air, twisting and fighting the emptiness beneath her body. She was caught by eager hands and stuffed beneath the seat of the lifeboat. The scent of damp rope beneath her feet mingled with the smell of sweat above her head. Above her head, she saw the Ship’s Mate leap from the burning remains of the ship and swim toward the safety of the lifeboat.

An explosion! Kegs of gunpowder crashed through the deck. The sails ignited. Shredded pieces of burning canvas flew into the air, like flaming kites, skittered through the air until they burned themselves out or drifted down, sizzling when they struck the water. Smoke and flames cast a gray and orange glow across the ocean. The flaming mast of the pirate ship disappeared beneath the waves, leaving a streak of oil and bubbles.

A thick fog folded around the little boat, its only protection from the King’s ship. The First Mate whispered, “Quiet now, boys, and row like hell. For surely, we’ll hang from the yardarm before nightfall, iffen’ they catch us.”

A moment ago the air was filled with shrieking chaos and now only silence. The only sound was the splash of oars as the six pirates rowed until the sweat poured from their bodies and dried in the afternoon sun.

Safe beneath the First Mate’s seat, the rhythm of the oars thumping the water matched the beat of Esme's heart. Her tail swayed gently from side to side, as though driven by a different master. She was safe for now, headed for a port on the Coast of Maine where she would find shelter and the comfort of another ship.

In the years that followed, the sleek black cat with a stub of a tail gained stature on the waterfront. Though she might sleep, her tail would twitch, ever watchful, ever alert. She would not allow herself to be touched lest anyone should try to force her to join an unwanted vessel. But just as the ships were ready to embark, she would board the ship of her choice. Whether pirate or legitimate, it was always a ship where the food was good, the men were kind and it was not over run with rats; just enough to keep her entertained on a long hot, boring afternoon.

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