My story is a simple one, but also one full of adventure. 

My father was a great woodsman in the employ of a noble family close to the crown and my mother worked in the household of the same family. As a child, my parents doted on me. I was the only one of seven to survive past infancy. As such, my father trained me as he would a son, teaching me how to track and capture prey as well as in the use of firearms. It wasn't until my father was led to the guillotine that I realized our family's survival had depended on my father's skill as a poacher and not his job as a woodsman.

He had trained me well. In the mornings, I went with my mother to scrub floors and polish pots and pans at the chateau. In the evenings, I resumed my father's duties as a poacher, providing meat the berries of the forest for our meals. It was at this time that I began dressing as a man, saving my dresses for the days.

I became proficient at skinning and preparing many types of small game. I would travel to the nearest villages and sell the skins to any merchants I could find that were not from the area.

As I reached adulthood, my mother became enfeebled and could no longer work at the chateau. With her income gone and no one to turn to, I started taking more chances. As a man, women were strongly attracted to my "boyish" qualities. I used this to my advantage and received many gifts for my charms. On the other hand, I was attracting the attention of not only his Lordship but several of his sons as I worked at the chateau.

By the time I turned 15, I had a tolerably good fur business, several lovers and a beautiful collection of treasures. One of these treasures, a musket of excellent quality, was to be my downfall (or so I thought). 

His Lordship's second son, Pierre, had gotten in the habit of meeting me at a small cottage. The cottage, located in the woods near my home, was also where I prepared my furs. Against my better judgement, as Pierre was tolerably handsome and I might have been in love, we were meeting nearly every night. Pierre thought it amusing that I had an interest in firearms and his gifts usually consisted of filigreed powder horns and similar items. This night, it was to be his father's prized musket. Gleefully, for I had never seen the like, I begged to try my skill. 

We went out into the woods and he picked a target. It was not until I  fired that I saw his Lordship coming through the trees, directly in the path of the musket ball. I dropped the musket and ran. 

With the last bit of sense left within me, I ran to my hiding place and pulled out my poaching clothes. Gathering what little gifts I thought I could carry, I made my way to the village. One of the merchants hired me as a bookkeeper and I made my way to the majestic, star-shaped walled city of Gravelines.

It was in the coastal city of Gravelines I found out that His Lordship still lived. There was a price on my head, but the price was for Claudette, not for Jean-Claude. I threw myself into the role of Jean-Claude as if my life depended on it. When the opportunity to work my passage to England resented itself, I leapt at the chance.

It was here I found my new love. The passion of Pierre was nothing to the feeling of the sea spray. The Captain said I had a knack for the sea. All I know is that I feel at home on the sea. When we arrived in London, I immediately signed onto a ship bound for the Americas.

Five years later, I had moved from just another landsman to Quartermaster on a Caribbean merchant ship. My helmsmen were as crisp and precise as on a military ship. All was going well until the storm. This storm was quite a gale; visibility was down, 30-foot swells. And among it all, a Spanish ship (much larger than our own) on our tail.

We watched helplessly as the Spanish ship drew closer. Neither ship could change course much at all due to the storm. We lost sight of the other ship frequently. It had been some time since we had seen her when she appeared for the final time. We had little time to prepare before she broadsided us. The damage to the ship was slight, but the damage to our crew was significant. Among those lost, the Captain had been struck solidly, leaving only his shoes on the deck. Much would have been lost if Jack O'Harrigan had not taken command.

Vowing revenge, O'Harrigan rallied the crew and we began our new careers as Privateers.