She loved the wind. It would always strike her body mightily, but never make her falter. In fact, it made her feel alive, free. It was like if she could let herself plunge and then soar in its capricious currents. 

The winds were what truly commanded her vessel, as imperious as the tides. Pirates generally followed their favorable leads without question, never bound to one land. Spoils could wait to be reaped anywhere, after all. Today, a storm seemed to be building up in the sky; it was as bleak as her thoughts.

As she stood in the crow’s nest, she glared at the open seas. Their dear ship was being dragged east by the goddess of water and gales, gently but without pause. She was not a devout believer, very far from it, but she still interpreted such currents as a sign. That was why she took a deep breath and grabbed a rope, descending swiftly towards the deck. An edict was long overdue; they could not approach those faraway ports with a prisoner in their brig.

While she plummeted down, she sneaked a glance at the far horizon. There were no shores to be seen yet. Her mind was set, very aware of all the threats that their recent journey implied. When her boots struck the flooring strongly, she stood tall and called, snapping her crew alert.

“Drop the anchor!”

Her ship was always noisy, either struck by loud eager shanties, drunken cheers, snarled expletives, or cunning frisky remarks. It was her commands what would silence those sounds, replacing them with the echo of determined rushes and exclamations.

Barbara crossed her arms and marched towards the helm, ignoring how an anchor struck the waters and how ropes were being dragged. Olivia had stopped steering, and she did not doubt to greet her blankly when she reached her.

“You sure you don’t want to sell him off in Titian cay? Getting rid of him like this is such a waste…”

Olivia was not fazed by how Barbara scolded her next, glaring at her in frustrated anger.

“We’re not selling him to those slavers, I made that clear enough.”

They had never sold off anyone, yet the idea was very tempting for the second in command. There was more than one reason for her spite.

“Oh, just think of all the gold they would give us for a royalist. They would keep him alive, even if surely battered.”

Barbara sighed, knowing Olivia loathed men, much more ones that worked for the kingdom. Many in her crew shared that sentiment, for she recruited them in renegade islands.

“Forget about the gold, we will get countless coins once we sell all our loot. I must deal with him personally.” She leaned on the railing by the helm, scowling while she observed her crew handling ropes and a crate, getting ready for one last spectacle. “We won’t dare approach any dock controlled by the kingdom, and we can’t simply drag him along to a pirate haven. This is the way; he refused to accept my offer, so he shall suffer his own obstinacy.”

Olivia scoffed, but she did not argue any further. They had quarreled for days already, sometimes while drunk in the main quarters. She was ready to back up her captain, even if she hated it.

“Fine, let’s drop him. But I want to see him squirm and tremble.”

Barbara smirked and sneaked a quick thankful kiss on Olivia’s cheek.

“Me too, little olive. You don’t know how much.” She whispered with a glint in her mischievous green eyes. “I’ll make him beg for his life if it pleases you.”

“That would be enough compensation, but barely. We’ve gone through too much trouble.”

“Then let’s not delay any longer. The winds beckon, and their encouraging call may cease in our doubt.”

Barbara moved away and began to bark orders loudly, slapping at anyone who lounged about. Not too far, a pale girl observed with a worried frown; the sight of a rifle and a blindfold being taken made her quite uneasy. Still, she did not dare move. Everyone was holding daggers and cutlasses.

Majtek hid her disquiet when Maria walked to her side, whispering words with a reassuring tone and a nervous apprehensive smile.

“They won’t hurt him much…” She gestured softly, having learned through the days to communicate with the younger lass. “Some sneering, perhaps a few jabs, then a rough but fast drop. I’ve seen worse, believe me.”

Keelhaulings were uncommon, but not few. Worse of all, they could be carried out non-lethally. Their prisoner should consider himself exceedingly fortunate, in her opinion.

Maria laid a hand on Majtek’s shoulder and compelled her away from the derisive crowd, who cheered and cackled eagerly while Barbara boasted loud malicious remarks. The entire crew called sarcastically for murder; some vouched for quartering, others for a keelhaul, but most vowed for the traditional hanging from a mast.

Barbara basked in their zeal and grit, riling them up with feigned consideration for each option. In the end, however, she announced loudly for all to hear, even for the one in the brig.

“Ladies, ladies! I know most of you detest his guts and want to see them spill all over deck! However, we have a new recruit, and we must ease her into our ruthless ways in a gentle manner! The soft sway of a hanged man can be soothing in the dull nights at sea!” All laughed for her derisive comments, adding to them with their own mean expletives. “Now, we’ve kept him waiting long enough with his own thoughts, and you need some respite after sailing arduously for a whole week, so let’s get this lynching started!”

Barbara smiled darkly, sure that all the shouts and exclamations were echoing into her vessel for their prisoner to hear faintly. The notion thrilled and bothered her at the same time. Without further word, she handed Dolores a rifle and a ragged cloth, whispering seriously.

“I don’t want to see that fool’s eyes, understood? Keep him blind to our antics at all costs, or it will ruin my fun.” She nodded at the trapdoor, letting her have at him. “Go; you won’t be able to do this again in quite some time, so get a kick out of it while you can.”

“Aye, capt’n.”

Dolores patted her rifle with a confident frown and began to push past the loud crowd, jabbing at anyone who dared make further suggestions. As she went down the trapdoor, the crew began to position itself on deck, either seated on barrels or propped by the railings that would offer the best view.

The one-eyed woman ignored every single noisy echo that came from above, striding strongly through the cargo with her gaze fixated on the door that led to the brig. She was extremely blunt, yet this time she took her sweet time pondering her thoughts.

When she kicked the door open, she stood still for some seconds at the top of the stairs. She could not hear it, but she was sure that a heart was beating rapidly below, not only startled by her intrusion. She began to descend the steps, slowly. Her one eye soon pierced the figure waiting inside the cage. He was glaring at her in a quiet manner, holding onto the bars. She did not point her rifle yet or go for the lock.

“Well, lad, seems you ain’t gonna be able to escape death for much longer, are ya?” Olve scoffed in resentful apprehension, capable of hearing the shouts above. There were faint and muffled by the redwood that separated them, but it was all too clear. “It’s a real shame we won’t be having your thickheadedness in our favor.”

“I could still have been somewhat useful to her.” He had tensed as soon as he heard the anchor drop, and although he was defiantly calm, he was still quite on edge. “She could still sell me off in some outlawed ports. Think; she’d get rid of me with a nice sum of gold, and I would surely find a way to escape those shackles.”

Olve was trying to weasel his way out, bargaining. Barbara had refused to keep conversing with him, and he was very annoyed by that fact. Sadly, Dolores shut down those ideas, shrugging and untying a bottle from her belt.

“Ah, nay, she’s fed up. We tried to tell her the same since we can’t care less about yer life, but capt’n wouldn’t hear any of it. You insulted her efforts time and time again; forget not that you spat on the kindest offer she’s ever given. Also, lad, you don’t know how barbaric some slavers are; the civility of the royal cities has had you spoiled. She’d rather hang ya than risk whatever those brutes may do. Fire or a rope, they are far better for ya than a lifetime of anguish. Be glad of this.” Dolores juggled the bottle with one hand, biting on the cork to open it. She then leaned it to him with an unemotive expression, one that hid sympathy. “Now, a drop still has a nice sting to it. Fancy some rum before the walk of shame?”

He glanced down at the bottle, contemplating taking it for a moment. She raised an eyebrow when he sneaked a glance to the ceiling, shaking his head to refuse the drink.

“No, better keep all my senses intact, since you will surely blindfold me.”

Dolores chuckled silently, surprised by his perceptiveness; the cloth was under the folds of her dress, yet he still noticed that it was there, hinted by her small gestures. Barbara wanted him as impaired as possible, but the offer of a drink was not due to it.

“Threatened by death, and ya want to feel the most of her grasp. Is it conceit or faked pride?” Dolores smirked and shrugged, propping up her rifle to point at him. “Be of little importance to me. Let’s make this nice and quick, agreed?”

Olve took a deep breath, knowing that the rifle was loaded and that her aim was deadly. He had seen her shoot before. For it, he stayed still while she opened the cage with a hand, as well when she twirled the cloth out.

“Tie it tightly. I be lacking an eye, but I’ll know if it’s loose, so don’t mess around.”

He had always debated bolting and fighting when threatened. He surrendered to the dangerous demands again, but for slightly different reasons. The pirate scowled when he tied the cloth stoically, sensing well his serenity; she had expected him to fret like other prisoners they had. 

“Not much fear for the gods, have ya?”

Olve smiled very faintly while he secured the blindfold around his bright eyes. His next words were taunting.

“I was supposedly going to become one… With how lucky I have been in my escapes, I believe the pantheon may have granted me their blessing. Who knows if it was due to their disdain for those savages and their heretic rituals or if due to sympathy for my life.”  He stood upright with his eyes concealed, displaying an indifferent composure. “I shall wait and see what awaits me.”

There was no reason for him to act. It was not because he feared being shot that he proceeded to walk out of the cage; Dolores only needed to nudge him lightly to guide him to the stairs.

“Mind yer step; haven’t tied your hands, but I will if ya use ‘em for anything other than balance.”

He moved slowly. It was not easy to sense where he stood while the ship swayed, and much less to hear clearly with the rocking of the waves. Still, he managed to reach the door; she had left it open, and she did not doubt to jab him forth into the cargo.

A scowl grew on his face. He could not hear anyone in the lower compartments. It really seemed that the whole crew had gathered on deck. The fact was concerning, but he still trusted his instincts and assumptions. No matter how composed and quiet he was, no one would avoid growing anxious in his situation. It was a serious matter, one to tread carefully. His heartbeat fastened when he neared the trapdoor blindly, and not because a gun was on his back.

Fierce sunlight brushed him as soon as he stood below the ladder and trapdoor. It was not as intense as the jeers and exclamations that were yelled his way; some pirates spotted him down there, having been waiting for Dolores to drag him out.

The point of the gun pressured again onto his back, a non-verbal command. He fumbled and took a hold of the ladder, blind. He did not manage to climb more than three steps before multiple hands slammed onto him, yanking him up.

He was dragged and thrown onto deck with a thud. When he tried to stand to his feet, somebody laughed and gave him a shove, sending him down again. Judging by how he felt less sunlight on the ground, somebody was now looming over him. He recognized that scornful tone immediately.

“Stand, dog. But don’t you dare try to bolt; you are surrounded, and even if you managed to rush past their blades and jump overboard, you would be fodder for the eels. This time, you can’t swim to shore. There’s nowhere to run.” Barbara leaned a little and whispered disdainfully, apparently angered. “End of the line.”

He heard a sound past all the exclamations and jeers from the crowd of pirates. It was the slithering of a rope being pulled. No matter its implications, he did his best to keep his cool, standing slowly with a prodding comment of his own.

“Ah, how noble of a pirate to ignore their greed and refuse to sell their prisoner… I kept betting you would want a profit for your hard work.”

“I do, I really want those moments to not have been in vain.” Olve huffed, because Barbara punched his gut, snarling close to his face. “Sadly, you are a fool who can’t wager his options well.”

She stepped off and snapped her fingers, prompting him to hear multiple steps around him. Once more, hands slammed onto him. He struggled slightly while he was dragged a little away, hearing her boast somewhere nearby.

“Taken by pirates, ones that do not tend to offer mercy to your kind, and you choose disobedience. I went to the trouble to fetch you, grant you a chance of a new life, yet you hold onto your old fruitless beliefs. I can’t tell anymore who’s the bigger fool!” Barbara growled, seeing a crate being pushed to where she had commanded. He was forced onto it, blocked from standing off by multiple cutlasses. That finally made him nervous, because a noose was indeed thrown around his neck. “Then again, boy, maybe I know…”

Olve tensed even more, feeling how some blades moved away. He fidgeted on the crate, sensing how Barbara circled him from behind like a shark, never stepping in front of him to let him discern her shadow. Her words were whispered, sad in their derision.

“I don’t want to kill you. One kick and I can set this crate tumbling off, and in turn, you. The rope will definitely break your neck and bring you a swift end, but I would rather not cause that either.” He shivered, feeling how she propped herself behind his back to hiss bluntly. “This is the last time I will ask, Olve. Ponder well. You have nothing, I took everything. Let me repay you while you serve me in your gratitude. Neither of us wishes to bring further strife, but our paths are far too inverse to evade it. Join my crew, escape again, this time with the ones who were your kin once. The downtrodden, the unlucky and poor… you can’t help any of them under the grip of that despicable queen.”

Her gaze displayed nothing but eager hope. The entire crew was exclaiming loudly around them, yet she could only hear his restless and slow breaths. His blue eyes were narrowed under his blindfold, unable to look at her while he debated her words. It was when he spoke again that she let go, refused once more with the saddest of convictions.

“You’re right, her rule won’t foster such aspirations. But yours wouldn’t either. I wouldn’t be free while serving the avaricious whims of another.”

The two stayed very still. Their breaths were almost drowned by the loudness of the crowd around them. As Barbara began to tremble in frustrated anger, the crew began to quiet down in their wariness for their captain. Olivia frowned, recognizing how intensely she growled next.

“Damn you… You realize your worth all too late, right when I wish to obtain it for myself.” Olve opened his mouth to interject, but he winced instead when Barbara unsheathed her sword and jabbed his back with one last hissed curse. “I’m done with you!”

There came the kick, as she had warned. The force of the hit made the crate tumble and almost shatter, causing him to stagger forth sharply. He felt many things in one single instant. First, he heard the crew yell and cheer, seeing him drop. At the same time, he felt the rope slide a little to follow his tumble, to then tense abruptly.

The snap hurt, but not as much as he expected. The rope went taut for a second, but then it gave in, like if somebody had been holding it above him and let go suddenly. His eyes widened when he realized that he did not dangle in the air… he kept falling.

Next thing he felt was pain. He wheezed loudly when he hit something hard a few meters below. However, there was a faint softness to it. The rope had slid down with him, untied and loose. Wherever he had fallen swayed a lot, and it made his stance difficult.

Once he managed to prop himself up with a pained groan, he yanked his blindfold off, confused. The sunlight kept him blind for a moment, but it did not last. The laughter and sneers echoed above him, far too distant now. As he blinked, he frowned strongly, seeing that he was laying on a small pile of rugs and hay.

The crew mocked him from above with smirks and mocking calls, amused by his stare at the boat where he had fallen, kicked off a crate placed right by a railing and a mast. He did not acknowledge their yells, glancing slowly at everything. There was a barrel, a satchel, two paddles to row with, and the furs that had muffled his drop. It was clear that this had been all laid out intentionally to assist the outcome of a faked hanging.

Barbara snarled, meeting Olve’s acknowledging gaze. She did not get the reaction she hoped for, not while threatening him nor when he looked up at her from the boat. It was clear that he betted on her bluffing again. It made both sorrowful, even if she tried to conceal it below an angry proclamation.

“This shall be my last act of benevolence! I now consider my offenses towards you paid, hear me?!” She put one foot on the railing and sneered, contrasting greatly his faint contemplative smile. “You better row strongly to the east; the winds won’t stay in your favor forever! It will take you more than a week to reach the docks of Dellhusk, and the food and water in that barrel won’t last for that long. It will be just enough for you to survive, but I’m sure you will with how stubborn you are. You can go hungry for a couple of days, and you deserve it!”

Dellhusk was controlled by the kingdom. It was at the center of a coalition of islands heavily guarded by the navy. It included some of the ports they would have crossed while escorting the necklace. If he could reach those shores in this boat, it meant that she had diverted her course intentionally; not too close, but not too far, a middle ground between their possible paths.

Olve sat there, debating Barbara’s actions once more. Like him, she had pondered this conclusion; however, she was the one who had the final say in it. For it, he was piercing her gently with his gaze, and that was something she loathed.

“Barbara, you-“

“Shut up, you stupid son of a royalist bitch! I said I was done with you!” As always, she barked. With a snap of her fingers, the ropes that kept the boat by the hull were cut fiercely. He faltered and stammered when the waves struck the boat and began to drag it away from the vessel. She took her hat off and waved it in the air, giving him one last resentful ultimatum. “Goodbye, Olve! Let us pray we never meet again, because if your life lays on my hands again, I’ll end it to avenge my restrained greed!”

He braced himself, stumbling inside the boat while the anchor was retrieved. The hull of La ostra roja hit his boat strongly when its sails were opened fiercely. The women who had pointed at him with swords or held the rope from a ratline moved away swiftly, getting to work.

The crew disregarded his release completely, having had their fun. They did not care much about his existence, all but two. Above, the captain looked away and readjusted her hat, striding on deck away from the railing. She crossed paths with her newest recruit, who kept leaning on the railing to look down worriedly.

Majtek only stopped observing how Olve struggled to steer his boat when Barbara patted her head, commenting.

“He’ll be fine, lass.”

With that caring murmur, Barbara walked away, as if those words were spoken for her own reassurance. Below, Olve had gotten hold of an oar; he had done his best to turn the boat away from the currents that the vessel caused, much bigger and heavy while soaring in the tides.

A shaky breath escaped him when the boat stopped wobbling around. The waves around him became gentler; the ship did not disturb them any longer. The shadows of the masts and sails still loomed over him, but they were growing distant. The speed of her vessel was truly admirable, and it was one of the things that allowed her to be so ruthless and effective in her incursions.

He would have called, but his voice would not have been heard. Although faint, he could still discern her figure by the helm and her second in command. Her coat and hat were as red as her ship, but the sight did not seem as bloody now.

“Goodbye… Barbara.”

The pirate ship had set sail for the distant cays to the west, where they would sell their loot. He wished her luck, even if she had taken something that would have secured his humble rank in the navy.

He closed his eyes after an hour, when the ship that brought him so much hardship disappeared on the horizon, like if it had never been there. The sun replaced its presence, emerging through the bleak clouds and vanquishing the rising storm that could have threatened his journey.

————

The days passed. They were arduous, tiring. The sun was merciless above, but it was not as cold as the nights. He would have suffered hypothermia if not for what was hidden in the satchel. The clothes were ragged, slightly small for him, but they had been sown with clear intent. They were better than the revealing chitin that he had been dressed in.

He could not care less if he was wearing stitched cloth scraps, not when they offered him warmth. No pirate would have crafted this, he knew. The stitches that kept the cloths and pelts together did not follow a pattern; they were chaotic, but they also hinted expertise. Furthermore, those women would have not lowered themselves to such a task for him, not even if they were skilled.

“Guess she wanted to get even too.”

He was not able to thank her for trying to rip the lock either. Not that she would have understood him, but still.

Day and night he rowed, until exhaustion. She was merciful enough to release him near the islands, but she expected him to struggle to reach them. It was both a logistical and scornful act.

His mind was slightly numb, tormented by monotony and tiredness. There did not seem to be an end to it. The gods had truly favored him, however, because the currents kept directing him east, towards safe shores.

He was focused on his efforts, determined. That was why his hands shook when he lifted his gaze for a moment, seeing something he had prayed to discern in the horizon. Where there had been an endless, oppressive blue, now he could see a blend of brown and green hues. It was not easy to distinguish past the fierce sun rays, but it was no mirage.

“Land…”

It was far away. One more day of rowing at the very least. The vessels that sailed near the beaches seemed so small that he questioned if they were there at all. His hands let go of the oars, trembling. He sat there, panting, taking a moment to find comfort in the fact that he would really survive. A resigned smile eventually grew on his lips, not quite knowing what he would say once he drifted close to shore. He would be spotted by some sentinels, for sure, and maybe dragged into a fort or battleship.

“Ah, I’m not looking forward to another brig.”

There was no harm in delaying. He needed to carefully ponder his next moves, how he would excuse his failures. Death was not a threat anymore, but incarceration still was. Without a captain to vouch for him, he was nothing but a deserter, she was right.

Nonetheless, his mind was set no matter what. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, knowing he would speak nothing but the truth. If it was to be judged, so be it. The greedy could chain him, but not compel him into blind servitude anymore.

Olve sighed loudly and shifted a little to reach for the nearby barrel. It would have been empty by now if he had not carefully rationed the food inside. There was only one pack of salted fish left, apart from a half-full bottle of wine. He pushed away the drink and leaned to grab the bundle at the bottom. However, when he lifted it, he saw something below it. There was a glint, one that had been hidden by all the piled food.

“What the-“ He took out the bundle and left it aside in the boat, staring down at the hidden item. Upon closer examination, he paled, shaking his head in astonished shock. “No.”

His hand trembled as he reached for it in doubt. All he felt was confusion, shock; perhaps he was dreaming or suffering a heat stroke. Sadly, there was no mistaking the chain. It was golden, as shining as the sun.

He held it closer, letting it dangle from his fingers. His mouth opened, yet no words would come out. He was holding the chain of the necklace, less heavy than before; the big glowing gem that had adorned its center was gone. When she kicked him down, he lost the chance to see her neck and notice she wasn’t wearing her prize.

“Barbara?”

There was no way this was coincidental, yet he couldn’t truly understand why she ripped the heirloom in two. He knew the purpose of the action, but not the emotions behind it. With part of the necklace, even if just the chain, he could prove he fought and did not flee in battle.

Why would you?

She was incomprehensible, unpredictable. He caressed the chain cryptically, contemplating the names of the monarchs engraved in each partition. If he could have read her mind, he would have felt the rage of a thousand suns, the renewed resent she felt for the royals.

She tore apart the very symbol of the life she had envied. No longer did she wish to compare herself with a queen that was indifferent and heartless. Her passion was as flaming as the gem she kept, a treasure she struggled for.

Her ambitions were unknown to him while he held the chain, and it would take him months to realize and accept them. It would be years until he would be able to look her in the eye with that knowledge.