Seafaring Story: Brave the waves.
 

The winds blew calm across the waters. It was a welcome change from the harsh weather in the unusually warm month of March, although it was slightly disturbing that the storm had passed so quickly. For 17 days the seas were rough. The storm had battered the aging ship and much of the cargo had been tossed from the desk and into the water. The crew of 'The Magenta' manned their posts religiously, although their attitudes weren't as alert as before now that the blue skies had reappeared and the sea didn't smell as violent.

"What heading are we now, Myuna?" the captain asked his aide from his bed, his long white beard in desperate need of a good comb or even a trim. His eyes were grey now, once a perfect blue, as a mysterious illness had took a firm grip on his health and was slowly draining his very soul from his body.

His aide was a small female, about 5 feet in height with long brown hair tied back with a white bandana. She wore a very smart uniform. High collared white shirt and red and gold waistcoat. Long beige pants tucked into large boots. At her waist was a thick brown belt with a large buckle on the front in the shape of a ships wheel. She held a jotter firm in her left hand and a quill in her right, looking up from her seat across the large cabin.

"We have only just started moving again, Captain. The storms have delayed us more than two weeks in our journey to port." She replied to his question the best she could. She didn't really know much about the actual running of a ship, and since the captain had been struck down with his sickness, she'd had to rely on the information of others. And not all of the crew on the Magenta were trustworthy.

The captain rubbed his head and struggled to sit up, a large moan exiting his lips as he winced in pain. Myuna ran to his side and helped him with her small hands, he smiled at her politely once he was settled and patted her on her head.

"I fear that once we deliver the cargo to the mainland, my final voyage will be on The Rose..." The captain looked to the window and stared for a while, lost in thought. The Rose was the lifeboat on the Magenta. It was only suitable for the captain and one other companion. He'd always vowed that when his time was over, he would give up the Magenta and travel alone on the Rose, floating out to sea to be alone with the world when he passed on.

Myuna said nothing. She knew what the chances were of the captain recovering and she knew that getting his hopes up on surviving would anger him, so she just moved back to her chair and continued to jot on her pad. It was then she noticed a note on the corner of the page.

Friday. Slate.

So he'd gotten to her room, had he? He'd written on HER paper, had he? She clenched her fist a little and then shook her head. Excusing herself from the captains quarters, she made her way to the drinking room, looking for Slate himself.

Slate watched from the table of shipmates as Myuna strode briskly up to him. He smirked at the fierce look of determination sparkling in her brown eyes, and chuckled to himself as he produced a bit of fabric. Crudely attached was a scrap of paper upon which was scrawled 'bra'. He tossed it to Myuna and let out a burst of laughter, sharing it with the lads about him.

"So you found my note finally," he remarked. "I'd say I'm impressed, except that by my estimate you're about an hour late. A shame." Slate pouted for a half moment, unable to maintain the facade for the mischievous grin that was constantly present on his face.

"I was hoping you would let me see a real one," he said wistfully, tossing the fabric to her, "maybe on my floor?" Another burst of laughter. Perfect.

Subtly he shifted his eyes towards a door on the port side, heading from the galley to a passage which lead towards the bunks in the rear of the ship. With the other crew laughing, they failed to notice his indication to Myuna. "Tell you what, doll." he said simply. "Tell you what. Meet me somewhere else -- out in the open so everyone can hear -- and we'll talk business. But not right now. I got more important things to do right now than you."

Laughter surrounded him as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed, faking a smug smile. It won't be long now.

Myuna stood with her hands on her hips, and shook her head once, the stern look never vanishing from her face. She wouldn't bow to his games, not in front of the group he was with. Scanning the faces slowly, she looked at the men with slitted eyes. How most of these people made the crew she would never know. Probably because they were cheap labour, and if they got swept out to sea, no one would really give a damn. Slate, however, was better than that. Why he associated himself with the rabble was beyond her. She stepped forward and took his glass from the table, drinking the remaining liquid from within, drinking slowly with her neck outstretched. Once the glass was empty, she placed it back down slowly, leaning toward Slate with her bust pushed out and stomach sucked in, licking her lips seductively.

"I guess we'll meet again later, then."She replied with a small smile, and tossing her hair back over her shoulder, she strutted away toward the door on the port side, her small hand fumbling at the handle before finally swinging the door open and closing it behind her. Thankfully, there was no one else in the corridor when she entered, and she leant against the wall and sighed, shaking her head. What was he playing at this time?

Slate watched Myuna drink his whiskey, his eyebrows slightly arched in amusement, and took the free opportunity to ogle her as she leant down before him. Say what you will, but Myuna was smoking hot as far as Slate was concerned. But, she was the captain's aide, and as such there were rules and regulations prohibiting anyone from making any moves. She was the mythical, the untouchable, and many stories had circled the ship about what men had daydreamed.

However, doing anything would be problematic for Slate's goals and bad for the ship as a whole. He needed her help, not his own desires. As it was, the way things were going, the end could come at any moment and the ship would be thrown instantly into chaos. Pirates were cutthroat, bloodthirsty by nature, and more than prone to violence even at the best of times. And with these disreputables among them...considered bad seeds even by pirates...then when the captain finally set sail on his final voyage there would be no delay before the mutiny happened.

Slate was intent on stopping this. If that was deemed impossible, his second course of action was to make sure he ended up on top. Myuna was instrumental to that plan.

He ordered another drink and finished it quickly, getting up from the table with an excuse to piss. Unsteadily he made his way to the main door, passing out into the cooler night air. As the door shut behind him he felt his senses sharpen almost immediately, the haze no longer clouding his hearing, smell or vision. After taking a moment to ensure there were no others nearby, he stole around to another door leading into the passageway inside which, he hoped, Myuna awaited.

Myuna had seated herself upon the floor, the hard wood uncomfortable, but it was a lot easier for her to sit down after having sustained an injury on the stairs to the bottom hold. She rested her hands on her knees, her back straight against the wall of the corridor, light streaming through the small port hole windows. It reflected around the walls, the slight rocking of the ship casting different light and shadows, almost in a dance. She watched in silence for a while before she coughed, alerted from her daydream by her own bodily function.

Looking along the corridor, there stood Slate at the other end. He'd taken the long route around, probably so the lads wouldn't know he was meeting with her, no doubt. She stood up and brushed herself down, walking toward him slowly, rubbing the back of her head with her right hand.

"Will you always make it a habit to embarrass me in front of the crew?" she asked, sighing slightly and then stabilizing herself against the wall with one arm, the other hand taking its favourite rest upon her hip. His cocky attitude had won her attention many times, but in her opinion, he'd be better to lose it before he'd get himself into trouble. He was just lucky he was good at making jokes, otherwise he'd of been hung quite a while ago.

"Ah it's just a bit of fun with the boys," he replied offhandedly. "At least they're the decent ones. They'll be sure to back us." He didn't need to finish the implication.

"To business." he said seriously, as he walked past Myuna, forcing himself to keep his eyes straight forward. "We need to go further in, where there are plugs for all the ears in the walls."

Slate passed the bunks and entered a smaller door set near the rear of the ship, then opened a trapdoor in the floor and beckoned Myuna to follow. Down there they were mostly below the water level, and what noise that was present in the chamber above was now far more muted. The noise even served a double purpose by masking whatever conversations took place in the bowels of their vessel.

Waiting for Myuna to climb down the wooden ladder, he once again let his eyes drift lazily over her body, but neglected to help her. She was considered one of the boys, and any attempt to treat her like a lady was generally met with scorn. Slate had learned this long ago when he tried to help her onto a rowboat to go to shore, and his efforts were rewarded with a dive into the sea.

Once below, his voice became even more serious. "I know the captain is dying," he said somberly. "I know, you know, the captain knows, and the boys will soon. So far there are rumors but nobody has specific knowledge apart from that he's ill. But, one of our...less friendly shipmates is amassing what can only be considered hsi army. To us, they'd be considered the other side. We need to do something about it."

He paused, not sure if he should continue, but pushed aside the doubts. "I was also thinking we should talk to the captain about this. He's a smart man so he's bound to know what's going to happen. I don't think he would want his ship, his legacy, to be destroyed by those...those god damned..."

Left unsaid was the word 'pirates'.

Myuna rubbed her brow. Word couldn't get out about the captains illness. He'd trusted her not to tell anyone, just say to them that he liked his secrecy. She hadn't told anyone, but the longer he remained bedridden, the more speculation over his current state would arise. And it wouldn't be pretty if some of the men found out that the once mighty captain was now a shaking old man. She kicked a stray bucket as she paced around the small secret hold, her mind scanning through a thousand thoughts at once. The main one that stood out was wondering where exactly they were on the ships map. She allowed herself a small smile, curving only one side of her mouth upward and then looked back at Slate, whos serious look brought her back to the bleak reality.

"We should talk to the captain? You mean, I should. I know you, Slate. You can't talk yourself out of having a drink, yet alone speak serious matters with the captain." She didn't say it to be cold, although once the words had been spoken, she could see how they would sound so. The captain refused all visitors. He wouldn't even talk to his elite. It was just Myuna and his servant Bou, who was swept overboard during the storm of the past few weeks. Sighing, Myuna picked up the bucket and turned it over, making a small seat for herself as she rested her legs.

"Truth be told, Slate, he's not sure who to trust anymore. A lot has happened within the last few months to make him feel like everyone, the entire crew of the ship, is against him. You propose that I tell him to back down from his role? Admit his illness and be cast out to sea? Tell him to choose a successor? No. His main objective right now is to get the cargo to port. I'm sure within that time he will have an idea of what to do next, but the best thing we can do right now is remain on course. Without any upset to his ideals. If he'd of still had his health, he'd of hung you for the very thought..."

She sighed again and rubbed her temple. Keeping the secret was a hard task, especially with all of the whispers and the taunts. Keeping a close eye on him had made the men think of her as the captains whore, even though he'd never laid a finger on her in such a manner. She didn't like the comments, but she'd deal with them until they were back on dry land. She looked upto Slate and smiled awkwardly, unsure what to say now.

Slate held up his hands in mock protest. "Whoa whoa whoa, firecracker. I didn't mean to tell him to give up. I mean, he knows he's done. We need his advice on what to do after. His very, very private advice. So we can keep his ship, his legacy alive. So the Magenta is feared but not disdained. Or destroyed. Those fools would drive this ship right into the royal navy within three months. Nobody wants that."

He sighed and rubbed his hand through his light hair. This would all be so much easier if they were naked. Pillow talk. Yeah right. "Still I guess you have a point. You know the cap best out of anyone. Much better'n this crusty seadog." He chuckled -- he was in the prime of his life. Crusty indeed. "This is why I wanted to talk to you instead've run about with my own plans. I'd probably have caused a mutiny myself by now."

"Don't read into that," he added.

"Wanted to talk to me? You mean, convince me into talking to the captain about someone taking over his ship, say...someone like...you." Myuna shook her head, her brown hair cascading about her shoulders as her small hand reached for a rung on the ladder. Her small fingers curled the wooden rung delicately as she heaved herself up one step. It wasn't an easy task, but she'd rather die than accept help from any of the males on the ship, including Slate who she liked to consider her closest 'friend', if one could have such a thing upon the Magenta. "You've got a lot of nerve, Slate. I accept that the captain needs to think things through, but are you sure now is the right time? Are you sure he's in the right state of mind to be making such decisions?"

She didn't give him enough time to answer as she made her way up the ladder, pushing the trapdoor up a small way and peering through. Empty. She looked back down at Slate and sighed. "I will speak with him. But I can't make any promises."

"Alright," Slate agreed, and watched Myuna disappear above. He quickly followed, not wishing to be discovered below decks without a valid reason. Plans ornot, he was still a member of the ship and was subject to the rules, and could be thrown overboard if he were suspected of stealing or otherwise breaking the rules. How ironic that was, having rules on a pirate ship. The captain had his nuances though. Eh.

He set the creaking trapdoor back down and leaned against the wall beside it. Myuna was just now disappearing from sight, headed back towards the bow, likely headed to the cabin thereafter. Possibly to the captain's quarters. What would she tell him? He doubted she would sell him out, but she knew the captain better than he ever would. Unfortunately she had seen right through his plans to be on top of the pile and assume command, so he would have to put that idea by the wayside and just hope that things worked out. Still, it would have been nice.

Eventually he ambled back towards the door to where he had left his mates. From here he could clearly hear the shouts and raucous laughter issuing forth from within, carried on the misty salted air, at once twinging his eyes, nose and ears. The sea had called him from home a lifetime ago. Who would have thought the same scent, the same feeling could be so incredibly different. A young boy, an experienced pirate. One with a future that was unknown, the other with a destiny unfulfilled. It was just a matter of time, really. A matter of time which was rapidly running out.