"Our crew started dwindling."
"What?"
"It's happened slowly but surely over the past ten years or so, Captain. Black died of scurvy. Weathering was killed by that Italian vigilante. You threw at least four able seamen overboard for various reasons. The three Johnsons: two of scurvy, one of pneumonia. Eton went mad. You let five crewmembers go on the small boat we captured off France. We only have half a crew."
"So now the cowards come after us." I sighed, and went back to my quarters to pour myself and Lemony a drink. "But really, who is the coward here?"
"Don't say it's you," said Lemony, downing a glass of rum.
"I'll call whoever the hell I want a coward. And this time, it is me! A useless pirate I turned out to be. I have become a docile fool in my old age."
"You're twenty-six."
"Well, at least someone is counting. But I refuse to get old!" I stood up, emptying the few drops left in my glass into the fishbowl. Pez swam out of his castle and smashed his head immediately into the side of his bowl. I smiled and turned back to Lemony. "We are going to attack the Brits, and if no one comes with me, I'll row out there myself!"
"That would only be giving yourself up!" he argued. "They will take you, and hold you, and you will be executed in Britain. No glorious end. Just the gallows."
"Then you're with me?"
"Of course."
"So what are we going to do? Could we pretend that I'm a hostage again?"
"No, we played that one out. They know you on sight now."
The ship creaked louder than usual, and I felt the planks at my feet shudder. "A storm's coming. And we're running out of time anyways. There's only one option we have left."
As quickly as I could, I assembled most of the crew in the foremost part of the deck. Some, who had only just got off their watch hours ago, were looking quite bleary after having been dragged from the forecastle. I told all of them the plan, then went back to my quarters to prepare. But I was only halfway there when I heard a resounding twang, and the ship lurched. I ran over to the source of the noise for a report. I didn't need it, once I got there. A rotted rope had come loose from its pulley, and now the sail it had secured was flapping about wildly. Hanover shrugged at me and said, "I did the best I could. But you know, it's quite tricky. I don't know how long it will take me to fix."
I sighed heavily. The ship was slowing now. I could imagine that the navigator was having a tough time making her go in a straight line, and surely enough she began to turn around in a wide arc. The warships, cannons ready, were closer than ever. I slumped my shoulders and headed to the bow, which was now almost facing the advancing ships. I must have looked like a cowardly pile of deck-sweepings. I avoided some of the rigging and climbed up the figurehead. The Scimitar's figurehead was a brightly-painted, fierce dragon. It had cunningly-made eyes that rolled terribly in their sockets with the movements of the ship. I planted my feet firmly, though dejectedly, and held out a cutlass with the pommel pointed towards the British vessels in a peaceful hail. When the headmost ship was close enough, grappling hooks were thrown over to us. Our ships were all of equal size, which made the crossing over of their crew to our ship very easy. Their ready cannons brushed up against the side of the Scimitar with a groan. I clambered down to meet the boarding fellows.
"Oh, the captain herself," one of them sneered, taking off his hat to give me a low, mocking bow. "How honoured I am!"
I resisted the temptation to kick the man in the gizzard, and only grimaced what I hoped was a winning smile. He was dressed in an admiral's uniform, which I thought was very silly. His tails were salt-encrusted, and his buttons were rusted.
"So, you've finally decided to give up, have you? After all these years, why now?"
I gestured around at the five or so crew of mine who were standing on the deck. "My ship is in bad repair, and the members in my crew are getting fewer and fewer," I said coldly. "My time for fighting and running is past. Now if you could please spare me a little dignity, I would be much obliged. Sir."
The admiral's eyes twinkled. "A thousand pardons, madam," he said, bowing again.
The urge to kick him was much stronger this time, but I bit my lip and kept both feet on the deck. Two other men stepped forward with irons for myself and my men. The wind had picked up more even since it had snapped the rope connected to the lateen mizzen, and was blowing grey, solemn-looking clouds over our heads. "Oh, if only I had more crew I would battle you bitterly over these manacles," I snarled, holding out my wrists. "All I asked for was dignity, and you slap these on me."
"Do you think any less of me?"
"I couldn't possibly. So why is it, sir, that you sent in three fully-armed warships for the capture of a measly six world-weary sea-rovers like ourselves? You aren't..." I gasped in mock surprise, "you aren't...afraid of us, are you?"
"Don't make me laugh," the man said, but his face seemed to be the farthest away from a laugh imaginable. "If you must know, your ship isn't the only one we picked up. On the other ships, we have the crew of another, much more dangerous ship." He went on smoothly, "So, you conceited sea-witch, if you wouldn't mind, stop stalling and climb over here. That is, unless you need a wee bit of help."
Though I could have plucked out his eyes and given them to his children for marbles, I smiled and said sweetly, "Oh, please do. I never would have been able to climb over with these dratted manacles on." I batted my eyelashes, and one of his men picked me up and awkwardly handed me over to the other side. "Dreadfully sorry for the inconvenience."
"Think nothing of it, my dear," said the admiral, his slick smile back in all its glory. He turned to look at my crew members, who were all still struggling from ship to ship. "Hurry up, you filthy sea-dogs! Mayhap a bayonet in your arses would make things go more quickly?" He looked back at me, "You seem like a nice girl. It's too bad you're going to be strung up when we get back to Britain."
"Why would they do that?" I asked, making my eyes as big as I could.
"You're a pirate. You've robbed ships. You've killed people."
I pouted. "I'm innocent until proven guilty."
"Are you?" he said, watching the progress (or lack thereof) of my crew and half-listening.
"Of course! Britain really has no grounds, and the trial would be very long and arduous. But let's say I kill you," I put forward conversationally. "That would make everything much simpler, now, wouldn't it?"
"Aren't we feisty?" he said, looking at me again with raised eyebrows.
Everyone at last was on the British vessel, so we were herded into a line and through a door. The first man through, a hugely muscled deckhand, didn't know what hit him. I could have told him, if he would have still been with us a split second later, that it was Bithers's sabre. There was no sound of a struggle. He was pulled aside by my principle lookout, who had also been with Bithers, Lemony, and the rest of my crew. They looked decidedly dirty after crawling through our ship's windows, then through the holes the British cannons poke out, battling all the crew below-decks, then finding their way up here. I walked into the darkened hall immediately behind the door, and made some room for the rest of the entourage. After our jailers were captured and handcuffed with the irons taken from our wrists, I congratulated my men. The plan was simple, but it worked.
