The clouds in the sky hung low and dark over the roiling sea. Bright lightning flashed on intervals, followed by the angry growl of thunder, and waves crashed violently against the hull of The Mermaid’s Curse, causing the vessel to groan in retaliation. Her sails flapped wildly, dueling with the howling wind that seemed to be trying to rip them to shreds.
It didn’t take a genius to know that there was a storm coming—and a bad one at that.
Agustin tapped his index finger tensely against the wooden table in his captain’s quarters, the golden ring that adorned it glinting in the low light. It had been almost a month since he and his crew had last seen land, and the company was getting restless. Their food and water supplies were dwindling and many of the men were growing stir crazy from being cooped up for so long. This storm could be the final straw that would push them over whatever edge was still keeping them from rioting.
“Hey, Agustin,” Anthony Glover, the sailing master, snapped his fingers in front of his captain’s face. “Are ye listening? This is important.”
“Of course,” Agustin lied, turning away from the window to look at the map on the table. “How long did ye say it was, again?”
“Six more days,” Anthony wrinkled his nose. “And that’s assuming this bloody chart is correct, which isn’t likely.”
“Damn it all,” Agustin sighed. “We’re going to have to cut back on the crew’s rations again, aren’t we?”
“Looks like it,” Danial Shawe, the quarter master, puffed angrily on his cigar. “They’re not gonna be happy about this.”
“I know,” Agustin leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not like we have a choice though. We never saw that storm coming.” He was speaking, of course, of the nasty hurricane that had thrown them off course two weeks ago. “It’s not our fault we’ve had such rotten luck on this voyage.”
“Try telling that to the company,” Anthony shook his head. “They don’t give a damn whose fault it was. All they care about are their rumbling bellies.”
“Nothing we can do about it now,” Agustin said. He turned to Danial, “I don’t suppose ye’d be willing to tell them about the ration cut, would ye?”
“Hell no,” Danial snorted. “I still have a chance to come out of this mess with a little respect to my name. This is all you,
Captain.”
“Fine,” Agustin glared at the quarter master with unbridled contempt. He knew Danial was just trying to undermine him so the crew would elect Danial as ship captain the next time they voted. Even though they already earned the exact same shares of loot and made many of the same decisions, it was no secret that Shawe wanted the power to command the ship in battle—a power that was only granted to the captain. His competitive attitude made him difficult to work with.
“If that’s everything we need to discuss, I suppose I should go tell the company the bad news,” Agustin rose from the table and headed to the door, leading the way as they went to meet with the others on the deck.
Outside, Manuel la Rosa, the boatswain, was directing the crew to prepare the ship for the incoming storm. Everyone was hard at work, so Agustin nodded at Anthony to get their attention. The sailing master lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly until the commotion died down. “Listen up, mates!” he shouted once everyone was looking at him. “Yer captain has some words for ye all.”
Agustin stepped forward, his dark eyes sweeping over the men who had gathered before him. “As it turns out, we have at least six more days until we reach port, so—”
“
What?” one of the riggers, Tobias Young, exclaimed angrily. Following his outcry, the men began shouting at once in protest until their voices became a single roar.
Agustin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, this is going smoothly,” he muttered to Anthony and Danial at his side.
“You haven’t even told them the best part yet,” Danial smirked. “I can’t wait to see this.”
“Alright, alright,” Agustin called over the crowd. He raised one fist in the air, signaling for silence. “Calm down, ye bilge rats! I’m not finished.” He waited for them to stop talking before he went on. “As I said, we have six more days of sailing left, and that means we need to conserve what’s left of our rations. Effective tomorrow, yer portions will be cut back to whatever size Danial here sees fit.” He glanced back wryly at the quarter master, who paled. As much as Shawe tried to get out of it, determining rations was his job, and that meant he could deal with the outraged pirates.
“If ye have any issue with our decision, take it up with yer quarter master,” Agustin slapped Danial on the back. “That’s all.” He turned to go back into his cabin, leaving the others to take care of the aftermath.
‘Belay this rope, untie that one, oh, and furl that sail while you’re at it,’ Cecily huffed, gritting her teeth as she tugged on the end of a rope she had just tied to a cleat.
Oi, this man is going to be the death of me. She stepped back to look over her work before moving on to the next thing on her endless to-do list from the boatswain.
The deck was slick with ocean spray from the combination of the waves and the wind, so she had to be mindful of her footing when crossing to the other side of the ship. Other men in the company flew past her, completing various jobs of their own in preparation for the storm on the horizon. Most of the time, she didn’t find it too difficult to keep up with them, but today she was feeling especially tired and irritable for some reason.
“Rowland!” one of the men—his name was Lope—called to her. He had a rope in his hands attached to something high up on the mast, and was struggling not to let it go. “Give me a hand, would ya?”
“On my way!” she called back in the most masculine voice she could muster in her exhausted state. Giving another belayed rope one last jerk for good measure, she jogged over to Lope and took hold of the rope. Together, they managed to tie it down. She exhaled tiredly, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm.
“Thanks, mate,” Lope nodded gratefully and ran off to do whatever task he had been assigned to do next.
Cecily was about to do the same when she heard someone whistle from the bow of the ship. She looked up to see Agustin, Anthony, and Danial standing just outside the captain’s quarters.
This can’t be good, she knit her brow. Those three only addressed the crew when there was news to be shared or decisions to be made, and lately, nothing they had said to the company had been pleasant.
Joining the rest of the men, she stood and listened to her captain explain that they still had almost a week left before they reached port, and as a result their rations would be cut back… again. She bit her tongue, stifling her rage at the news. They were already eating scarcely anything for supper already! How could Agustin and Danial think they could handle being starved even more? If an enemy ship caught them like this, they wouldn’t have the strength to fight them off. They were too vulnerable.
“Come on, ye scallywags!” Manuel waved a hand in the air. “Get back to work, unless ye want to finish up in the rain.”
Cecily clicked her tongue, but said nothing more as she went back to belaying ropes with the others. She was tired, yes, but she didn’t want to stay outside any longer than she had to with that storm on its way. It was better to hurry up and finish the job than sit around and complain.
--
Once the ship was fully prepared to weather the storm, Cecily went below deck to rest before supper in the sleeping quarters. She collapsed on her cot with a groan, stretching lazily. The crew had managed to finish up all of the boatswain’s tasks just as the first drop of water fell from the sky, which meant she could take a dry nap.
Around her, other pirates sat playing dice games—gambling was technically forbidden on board the Mermaid’s Curse, but crew members often found ways to get around that rule—and chatting idly with each other. They laughed and jeered loudly, but despite the noise she had no trouble at all drifting into a deep sleep.
Vaunivor
Tlazolteotl
Syrenrei
AHeartlessNobody
nachonacho
Vampiretwilight
