[b]H.M.S. Strumpet[/b]

From the deck came the sounds of singing, the able-bodied men and women that made this vessel glide were celebrating as they went about squaring away their duties, be it climbing to the crow's nest or minding the rigging. And what better time to celebrate than now, as the H.M.S. Strumpet took to the seas, leaving a smoking wreckage in its wake. Not an hour previous the Strumpet had engaged with a pirate ship, one captained by a freshly made man, no doubt following some sort of mutiny. The crew was inexperienced, a trait unbecoming of any pirate who claims to be worth their salt, but it worked out well for the Strumpet and her captain. 

Maebh Brannagh stepped onto the deck, the wind blowing her hair and her coat as she stepped through the doors of her cabin. In her hand was a small, tattered map, barely legible and about as useful as a sailor who got seasick. The map, or rather the scrap, had been handed over, after a cold barrel of Maebh's flintlocks had been pressed right up against the forehead, by the generous newly crowned pirate captain. He and his crew, deceased now God save 'em, had gotten a bit fiesty over the rumors of a treasure. Easily duped into foolish pursuits, pirates. Easily duped. 

Still, Maebh wasn't an idiot, and any man who would cling so hopelessly to a worthless scrap of paper either believes that the rumors are true and worth dying for, or they have fooled themselves into thinking their cause wasn't a lost one. "The Touch of Midas, was it?" Maebh spoke, heavily accented, aloud the name of the treasure the pirate captain had spoke. "Mister Hatcher," Maebh called to her First Officer, a good lad, Irish - which went a long way in Maebh's eyes, bit brutish in the heart of sieging, but what good Irishman or Irishwoman didn't get a bit rowdy in a conflict? "You an educated man, Mister Hatcher?" Maebh asked, stepping up the stairs towards the wheel, "Don't respond to that, of course you ain't, not if you're hunting pirates with me." Maebh gave a chuckle, and she silenced some of the crew who took that as their cue to laugh as well, "What's your take on this Touch of Midas thing? Worth pursuing?" 

Maebh had already made up her mind, but giving the illusion that her First Officer has an input - and he did, on several issues - worked wonders for the idea of consulting a sharper mind. Maebh had no need for treasure, if it even existed, but her goal wasn't in riches. If this no name pirate had been obsessing with the Touch of Midas, enough to rally a crew, there had to be something to it. And that would mean more pirates, and that would mean no end to the prizes that mark the Strumpet's history. 

"Your input, Mister Hatcher, before I take silence as agreement and we embark on a fool's errand." Maebh crossed her arms, but not before handing the tattered scrap to Mister Hatcher. He was probably better at reading maps than she, though she'd never admit that. While sober.