A war cry rose among the crew of the Thresher as they swung over to the pirate ship on the mooring ropes, a half dozen at a time. Moving with trained purpose and discipline, a cluster of them burst into the hold while the rest checked the other decks.
After a few minutes, a crewman signaled the hold was secure and the fire had not spread, prompting Sven to order a plank extended so he could board himself. “Give me a full report, sailor,” he ordered as he stepped onto the deck.
“No noteworthy damage to the ship, Cap’n,” he replied. “The contents of the hold are secure, but most of it is blocked off by a large door. It seems to be a…vault, of some kind. We haven’t been able to open it yet.”
“Keep trying,” Sven urged. “It has to be where they’ve stored everything of value. What of the crew? Did they surrender peacefully?”
“Uh…no sign of the crew, sir.” the sailor shook his head.
“Cowering in their quarters, then,” he smirked, crossing to the aft of the ship where more of his men were emerging from below deck. “Sailor! Bring me Captain Silvern so I may personally deprive her of her prized vessel.”
The man he addressed frowned in confusion. “Sir…?”
“The crew, man, where are the pirate crew?” He repeated, his mood slowly souring.
“Are they…not in the hold, sir?”
The commodore stared at him for a long moment, trying to process what he had said. He then turned to take his own visual account of the deck, utter bewilderment beginning to descend. “Where in the hell…?”
“Ahoy!”
A feminine voice sounded behind him, from the direction of his own ship—more specifically, from his own ship. Sven gazed in shock at the sight of Captain Eve standing on the deck railings of the Thresher and flanked by her entire crew, some of which were holding swords to the necks of his own sailors who had remained behind.
“That…sea witch!” he spat, eyes aflame with fury. “Blades ready, men! Get some planks and—”
“Ooohhh I wouldn’t do that,” Eve called. “I’ve got your entire supply of the King’s finest powder and shot ready to light. One hefty broadside ought to be enough to turn you and your boys into fresh chum.”
Sven held up a hand to halt his crew, regarding Eve with an icy glower. “Don’t try to bluff me, wench. You wouldn’t dare abandon your entire stockpile of pilfered goods.”
Why does everyone always think I’m bluffing? Eve wondered to herself before again addressing the Commodore. “What’s the bounty on my head now, five thousand? Ten? If I managed to cause the realm that much grief with the rickety barge you’re standing on, imagine what I can do with the navy’s flagship. I’ll double that stockpile easily within a month.”
The two ship commanders continued their standoff for a series of silent seconds, Sven’s mustache twitching repeatedly as it reflected his agitation. Finally, he spoke, the sea settling in an odd moment of calm to allow his muted grumble to carry. “Your terms?”
“The contents of your hold will do nicely,” Eve smiled sweetly. “And I’ll have to defang and cripple your ship, naturally. Nothing personal of course, she’s a fine craft. Even with half the sails I’d wager she’ll make port with her full crew safe and sound in three, maybe four weeks.”
The vein in Sven’s forehead was likely visible across both ships as he nodded tersely. “Agreed.”
—
A few hours later, the regular crew of the Dragon’s Curse had embarked, the last of its plunder stowed safely. Eve ducked into the captain’s cabin to grab a couple bottles of her private reserve of rum to celebrate, then emerged to meet the rest of her crew as they exited the hold.
“Come have a drink with me, lasses!” she sang happily. “Another successful—what in the depths of…what happened to all your clothes…? Again!?”
The crew looked among themselves in confusion. They had been hard at work hauling loot from the Thresher and none of them had noticed that their garments—already having had makeshift repairs done following their earlier raid—had once again been reduced to tatters. However, each of them soon found themselves staring right back at Eve with a similar expression.
“Speak for yourself, captain,” Jade replied.
Eve followed their gaze—which was decided focused beneath her face—and gasped in surprise at what was a noticeably much more obscured view than she expected. Reaching up, she poked at her chest, which had burst completely free from the fresh shirt she had dawned earlier that day.
“Ok, something twisted is happening on this ship—beyond the norm,” she looked back at her crew warily. “We already have enough to worry about without another curse.”
“Do you think it maybe has to do with—I don’t know—you setting it on fire?” Amelia asked. “We’re lucky it didn’t sink us right then and there.”
“Bah, dragon hide isn’t flammable unless under extreme heat. A few puddles of burning oil won’t even singe it.” Eve waved her off. “Though fitting everyone through the hold porthole was a bit of a gamble. I’m not sure we’d be able to pull that off again—especially now.”
She looked back down lifted her calves, causing her boobs to bounce in response. Amelia’s frown deepened as she stepped forward, closing the distance between her and the captain. “And just how many of these reckless stunts before we…”
She trailed off because she was used to meeting Eve at eye level, but found herself more in line with her new assets. The rest of the crew noticed this as well and began murmuring among themselves. Her arms…they look thicker…the gunner mused before looking away and stepping back to rejoin the crew.
“All of you, return to your stations!” Eve announced, glancing down at the bottles still in her hand. “The rum can wait until we figure out this new mystery.” Spotting Dalia still under guard, she nodded to the two women watching her and they returned to their original posts. “Join me in my quarters, Captain. We have more to discuss.”
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