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Cecily had only just begun to really settle down in her cot when a very unwelcomed gush of water brought her back to the real world. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, coughing liquid from her lungs that she had inhaled while she was asleep. Her linen shirt was drenched, leaving her cold, shivering, and thoroughly livid.

Looking around furiously to see who had soaked her, she saw Stefano standing next to her bed with an empty bucket. “What the hell?” she snapped at him, swinging her legs down from the cot. However, he was already on his way out of the sleeping quarters, so her question went unacknowledged. She huffed, blowing a wet strand of hair out of her face, and hopped down to storm after him.

“Oi, Stefano!” Cecily growled, reaching up to grab him by the shoulder. It was at times like these when she felt the difference between her size and that of the real men on the ship the most. Fortunately, her height, or lack thereof, hadn’t set off any red flags for the other pirates—they just assumed she was a short man—but it made her feel the need to assert herself quite a bit in order to be taken seriously by them.

Spinning her friend around, she puffed up her chest and squared her shoulders, making herself as big as possible. “Ye have some nerve waking me up like that,” she curled her lip at him menacingly. “My cot is soaking wet! I’m gonna catch scurvy if I sleep in that tonight. What were ye thinking?” She shook her head, crossing her arms over her wet shirt. “On second thought, scratch that. I know ye weren’t thinking, because yer an empty headed [i]knave[/i].”

Cecily tapped her foot irritably. Not only would she have a wet bed for the next few nights, she also needed to change out of her sopping shirt without being seen by the other pirates on the ship, which was no easy task while [i]everyone[/i] was below deck during the storm. She spat on the ground. If she wanted to put on some dry clothes before supper, she was going to have to get creative.

“I’d settle this with ye by fist if I weren’t already on thin ice with Danial for fighting on deck,” she went on with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So instead, I’ll accept yer portion of supper or another gift of the like. No backing out of it—ye owe me for my cot, Stefano.”

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“To one more week aboard this cursed vessel,” Anthony raised his black jack in a toast. “And to one more week before we finally refill our liquor stock.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Agustin lifted his flask to his lips, downing a draught of sweet bumbo. He reclined with the sailing and quarter masters in the captain’s quarters, watching the storm from the small window by the table. He was pleased to see that it wasn’t nearly as bad as the hurricane two weeks ago had been. If they got thrown off course one more time, he was sure the crew would riot. It looked like their luck had finally turned around.

“Don’t get your hopes up just yet, mates,” Danial said dryly, swirling the liquor in his black jack. “The charts have been wrong before. They can be wrong again.”

“Why do ye always have to do that?” Agustin shot him a dirty look. “Can’t ye just be optimistic for once in yer life?”

“I’ll be optimistic when we see land on the horizon,” Danial sipped at his drink.

“If yer so determined to bring down the mood, go do it in the crew’s quarters,” Agustin rolled his eyes. “I’m sure ye’ll catch ‘em gaming with dice again. They always do before supper.”

“Fine,” Danial shrugged, standing up from the table and heading for the door.

“Give the scoundrels a good screamin’ for me,” Agustin called after him.

Danial just shook his head and exited the captain’s quarters without another word.

“What did ye ever do to that man, Agustin?” Anthony whistled. “He hates yer guts.”

“Simple. I got voted captain,” he answered with a shrug, taking another drought of bumbo. “He’s jealous he didn’t get the position when Captain Robert died. Thinks he’s better than me.”

“Well, that was cruel of ye, sending him to the company while he’s in a mood.”

“At least he’s not here,” Agustin pointed out carelessly.

“I suppose,” Anthony frowned, glancing at the door. “But I can’t help feeling a little bad for the blokes.”