02. sink or swim
"I got the feeling we're being watched," Mad Maddie said quietly, an ominous edge to her voice.
"Mad, what the hell did I tell you?" Harry snapped irritably.
"...To not intone dramatically like something outta the worst kinda blue-faced tale," Maddie sighed, pulling up the hand she'd been trailing through the water. "But Cap, I really do--"
"Shut up and keep an eye on the shoreline if you're not gonna row, girl," came the sharp retort.
"Yes, Cap," muttered the girl. "No sign of any hostile locals, no sign of civilization, no sign of much of anything excepting lots and lots of driftwood and broken coral. That storm must've scoured the bottom of the seabed nice and clean."
"We'll make camp on the beach until I'm assured The Sappho isn't sinking in slow motion," Harry decided, hauling on her own oar. "But we all keep a sharp lookout about us. Jungles like this can hide any number of dangers, and after a typhoon that size any number of creepies may crawl out of the water to lick their wounds."
"Glad Great Krakens aren't native to this region," Jo said. "Don't fancy dealing with another one of those any time soon."
"Those sucker marks made you a hit at every pub, though, mate," said Lucky Franky, the usual twinkle flashing in his dark eyes. "Every wench from here to Tortuga wanted to hear how you got them."
"If you've got enough air to chat, you've got enough air to row, so row," ordered Harry.
"Don't pay her any mind, love," Maddie assured him in a carefully modulated undertone. "She always gets a little snippy when she's been double-crossed."
"Noted," he whispered back, giving her a smile that put his dimples on fine display.
With their combined efforts, it took less than a minute to haul both lifeboats high enough up the beach to keep them from floating back out with the tide. Maddie promptly scrambled to work with the tent canvas and stakes, trailed by Lucky Franky, swinging a mallet in one large hand and a heavy bag over his shoulder.
"Like a puppy," Harry said to Jo, fighting the urge to grin.
"Like a lost lamb," her first mate agreed. "An unlikelier pair you'd be hard-pressed to find."
The small crew had become adept at moving around one another, and they were all of them hard workers. The camp went from rudimentary to solid in no time. A fire pit was dug, lined with flat black stones, and prepped with scavenged driftwood that was drying quickly in the hot sun. A small city of tents sprang up and palm fronds were gathered, shook free of insects, and laid out as temporary mattresses. Buckets were filled from the stream and stew pots set to boil.
"Lizzie, Zora, Katherine, bring down some of those coconuts and then see what kind of fruit the edges has to offer us. I'm gonna try that lagoon. Cast a line and see what bites -- rather have fresh fish than pickled eel for supper tonight."
"Can we come, too, Cap? Me and Franky?" Maddie asked, springing up seemingly from nowhere.
"Of course you can't. Fishing requires patience and quiet, Mad -- two things you've never gotten the hang of. Why don't you and the boy just walk the perimeter and scout the lay of the land. Make sure we won't have any nasty surprises once night falls."
The girl looked somewhat crestfallen and her, "Yes, Cap," was more subdued than usual.
"Buck up, girl," Harry said, nudging her bared brown shoulder roughly. "I'm givin' you some time to get to know our newest recruit a bit better. I'm expecting you to take his measure and report back on your findings."
"Will do, Cap."
Harry rolled up the legs of her trousers, undid most of the buttons on her baggy shirt, and adjusted the floppy hat she'd slapped on as soon as the clouds had parted and the sun had shone through. The heat was heavy, humid, and would be unbearably oppressive if not for the brisk wind rolling in from the waves and the cooling mist of the ocean's spray. She grabbed a rod from the pile of supplies beside her tent, made sure her silver flask of rum was still tucked into her belt, and set off towards the rockier end of the cove where the water was deeper.
"Mind some company, Captain?"
Harry didn't slow her stride, knowing the woman just behind her was more than a match for it. They were of equal heights and build, and could be just as stubborn and bullheaded. "You really did some magic getting us through that reef, Nessa. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks, Captain."
"You can call me Harry, you know," she teased. "You earned that right long ago."
"Sorry, Cap-- Harry," the younger woman stumbled verbally. "Still haven't quite shaken the upbringing. Alvar and I had respect drummed into us by the time we were walking. You must always give a superior their full title and honors," she said in a sing-song cadence. "You must always defer to the social hierarchy, and bend your head in the presence of nobility. A lady curtsies and a gentleman bows..."
"Good thing none of us are noble," Harry snorted. "And you're the only lady onboard, so don't waste time on curtsies."
"Don't think you can do a proper curtsy in breeches anyhow, Cap-- sorry. Harry."
"Alvar -- he's your brother, yes?"
"My twin."
"The one that showed you how to run a wheel?"
"Yes. He's in the Navy now."
"What colors does he sail under? We can steer clear of any ships with--"
"No worries on that count. He's currently sailing around the Horn of Africa, on a three year voyage with a ship full of scientists and botanists. We won't be crossing paths with him."
"Well, if we happen to find ourselves sailing for the Dark Continent, remind me to keep a weather eye out for him."
"Will do, Harry."
There was a large outcropping of rock that jutted over the lagoon like some accusatory finger, flat and smooth and with ample space for a pair to sit side-by-side and cast out fishing lines. They settled themselves carefully on the hot rock, dangling their legs over the edge, and dropped their baited hooks. The wind played with their hair, weaving the loose strands into knots, and dried the sweat on their brows.
Harry glanced over at Agnessa with a half-smile and lidded eyes. She was only a handful of years her junior, but seemed much younger thanks to a closeted upbringing. The captain knew she came from money -- her father was some financial genius, something big in banking, and she'd heard the crew say something about her mother being minor nobility, a blue-blooded name tied to large tracts of land. She certainly had the fine bones and elegant hands of a lady, a sharp chin and demanding dark eyes that could be quite arresting. Nearly a year at sea had darkened her skin to a uniform nut brown, bleached streaks of blonde throughout her dark hair, and had put thick calluses on her once-soft palms.
But even with the tan and rough hands, it was impossible to hide what the steersman truly was: a fine lady. She still spoke with the eloquent rounded vowels that were hallmarks of wealth, still had a graceful way of moving, as if she were dancing in heavy skirts. In comparison, Harry was a coarse character indeed.
She was fair where Agnessa was dark. Her pale hair had begun to go white in patches -- not from age, as she was still only in her thirties, and not from shock, as Harriet Roberts was nigh unshockable. No, it was the constant sun and brine that was bleaching away the blonde. And while that same sun had made Agnessa brown, it did nothing to Harry. She didn't freckle, didn't burn, and didn't tan. Her skin remained so pale it was almost translucent, and she knew this oddity had added to her growing legend. Maddie had overheard another pirate tell his drunken mate that Captain Roberts was actually a ghost, a sea spirit that could make itself solid.
But no -- Harriet Roberts was a flesh-and-blood human woman, not a siren in disguise or a vengeful spirit, though she wasn't above the occasional act of revenge. Her teeth were slightly crooked just like her smile, her nose was a bit snub, and her pale blue eyes could glitter with amusement, go flat and empty with anger, or flash with hellfire depending on the heat of the moment. She wasn't particularly tall and there wasn't much meat on her bones; all of her muscle was wiry as whipcord. Besides her pale skin, the most unusual thing about her was her scar: it ran nearly the full length of her left arm, a dark and jagged red line that bumped where the stitches had been uneven. Only Jo knew how she had gotten it -- it had been an old scar by the time she became captain of The Sappho.
There were many stories about Captain Roberts and The Sappho -- another was that all of her crew was undead and cursed, women that had been thrown overboard or murdered at sea.
There was some slight truth in that story: most of her crew had indeed been thrown overboard or cast aside by cruel sailors. Wenches who had tired of constant beatings, stowaways, compromised disguises. Agnessa was a rare exception: someone who had sought them out and demanded to join the crew rather than a woman rescued from the waves or brothels.
"Nessa, exactly why did you decide to go to sea?" Harry asked, breaking the serenity of the lagoon.
She was quiet for a long while, eyes focused on the striations of the rock they sat upon. "I didn't want to live the life society demanded of me. When Alvar announced his intentions to join the Navy, Father said it was time for me to marry. He'd picked out a husband for me, and a wedding date, and had already commissioned the finest dressmaker in the city to make my gown. And I didn't want any of it. I had never met this man who would be my husband. And he was so many years older than me. I didn't want all the fuss of a wedding, or to wear any more uncomfortable dresses, and most of all... I did not want to become a broodmare."
She shifted, drawing up one leg and tucking it beneath the knee of the other. Her fishing line bounced slightly as she rolled her shoulders and settled her arms more comfortably across her lap. "I had an older sister. Agathe. She was seven years senior of Alvar and I. And she died in childbirth, trying to deliver a third child in as many years. I was in the room with her -- I held her hand as she bled out across the bed -- I watched the light fade out of her eyes. It was the same way our mother died: massive hemorrhage. The same way our neighbor died, and the baker's wife... And I could not shake the fear and exhaustion and resignation I saw in Agathe's face, the same emotions I was sure must have been on Mother's face. She died birthing Alvar, only minutes after delivering me, and I decided I would never share that fate. They always speak of what a tragedy it is when a war claims so many young men, and yet society cares nothing for the war women face -- are expected to face! And so many times! It horrifies me and I want no part in it," she finished firmly with an obstinate jut of her chin.
"So you turned to piracy," Harry said. "I must confess, I agree with you: it's a far safer career choice. Much rather a brigand than a mother."
"I don't think you're a brigand, though," Agnessa said after a moment's silence. "Not in spirit, anyway."
"Says the woman who now owns three of the Spanish king's prize rubies."
"I mean, we're technically brigands, yes," she clarified. "What with the stealing and all. But we only attack ships that deserve it--"
"Or whose captains have irked me."
"Yes, who deserve it," Agnessa agreed. "And we honor terms of surrender and parlay, and it seems to me that we spend more time rescuing people than we do killing."
"You make us sound like a bleedin' charity."
"But we are, in a way, aren't we? Last month we sailed fifty leagues off course just to get that girl Topaz back home to her mother, and you gave her a bag of gold when she landed."
"You noticed that, huh?" Harry said wryly. There was a gentle tug on her line and she resisted the urge to immediately reel it in, knowing it was only the first test bite. Come on, little beauty, take another nibble...
"I've got good eyes, Captain. And I also noticed..."
"Speak your mind, Agnessa. You know I want everyone to have a say."
"You're looking for something, aren't you?" A gust of wind threw her dark hair into her eyes, and she reached up one hand to push it back. "Something more than just the next fight or bag of gold. Something more important. You and Jo both."
Harry had stilled to the point where she looked like a very unusual alabaster statue. Her shirt hung down over one shoulder to bare a large swathe of chest. Her white-blonde hair was a tangled rats' nest beneath the shapeless brown hat, and her legs were caked with dried sand. "We're all of us looking for something, ain't we?" she said finally. "...The fish here don't seem especially hungry, do they? Maybe we'll have to settle for eel and biscuits after all. C'mon, m'girl. What do you say to a short swim? Get the salt outta our hair."
She set aside her rod and line, pulled the shirt up over her head, and unbuckled her belt, sloughing off her trousers before taking a running leap off the rock with a shout of excitement. Agnessa sat frozen, mouth hanging open, for several seconds before she came back to her senses.
"You're a crazy woman, Captain!" she called down as soon as the pale head had resurfaced in the center of a rippling circle.
"Come on in, Nessa!" Harry crowed, slapping the water. "Cool you right off!"
"And you've definitely scared off the fish now!"
"Aw, I'm not that terrible to look at, am I? I've still got most of my teeth." Harry stretched out, closed her eyes, and backstroked in a lazy circle. A moment later, a splash to the right indicated Agnessa had taken the leap. "This is most certainly the life, ain't it?" she said when she'd resurfaced with a splutter. "Paradise. We may just have to make this little cove our usual berth. Wouldn't be too difficult to navigate the reefs in smooth weather, would it?"
"No, not now that I've gotten the lay of them," Agnessa confirmed. "Though most helmsman would steer clear of coral like that."
"Perfect -- makes it even more attractive now. We'll see how the night fares. So long as no terrible beasties prowl out of the jungle or slither up the sand, I'll have a word with Jo about making the accommodations here more permanent. Sure we could craft a couple little huts, maybe find a nice dry cave to store provisions and gunpowder in."
Behind the curtain of the waterfall, he watched the two with interest. He'd seen humans before but these were different. They smelled different, and they moved differently. Their voices were higher, closer to the music of his sisters, and they didn't carry the same air about them. He decided they must be females of the species.
The humans he'd watched before had reeked of avarice and violence, the auras haloing them black like the tar and smoke they smelled of. And while the pale one carried a promise of violence and the ghost of a long-burning anger, there was nothing black in her aura -- no, hers was the red and pink of passion and righteousness. And her companion's was a cooler green of satisfaction and contentment.
He listened to the way their bodies moved through the water. They were clumsy, as all humans are, their legs flailing and thrashing in discord. They did not know how to swim with the rhythm of water's ebb and flow -- it was something their kind had lost when they climbed on land. But the pale one swam better than he would have expected, just shy of graceful. It was clear that she loved the water, that she was so familiar with it she could almost hear its music. She was unafraid and joyous, reveling in the element. He could hear that singing from her heavy human bones.
And he was greatly intrigued to learn more. Perhaps an offering or two would be in order...
Still, he wouldn't reveal himself just yet. He did not think these female humans would harm him, but far better to wait and study them for now; they did greatly outnumber him. He slid back from the waterfall, diving down into the crevasse that connected directly to the stream.
"Glad you two are having fun," Jo called. "The rest of us have just been busy making camp, that's all."
"Come on in, Josephine," Harry laughed. "The crew won't be offended that the captain, first mate, and steersman are enjoying themselves a little. After this morning, we've earned a respite."
"Oh no, you're not getting me in there. I know your tricks, woman. You'll be dunking me the second I dive in. Now come on -- it's time to get supper started. And where in the blue blazes are your clothes? I swear, you're worse than a child."
"What's the problem?" Harry said archly, squeezing the water from her hair. "We're all of us ladies here."
"Except for Franky," Jo reminded her.
"I'm sure Franky has seen plenty of female flesh," Harry retorted.
"Exhibitionist," muttered the first mate.
"According to my mum, we were all naked before we started sinning and knew shame."
"Don't you go referencing the Bible with me, Harriet Roberts," Jo said. "And as if you're free of sin."
"No, but I am free of shame," Harry countered with a laugh. "Oh, thanks, Nessa," she said, taking the clothes she held out. "You're a peach."
"Speaking of: Maddie and Franky found a whole grove of fruit trees. She thinks this spot may have been a colony at some point -- maybe the Dutch, they're always throwing farmers on Godforsaken rocks."
"No sign of any colonists still around?"
"No. And the trees are so overgrown and wild now, it must've been a couple decades ago. Perhaps they packed up and went home."
"Or died because of some terrible disease or vicious animal," Agnessa said darkly.
"It's not like you to be so doom-and-gloom," Jo said. "Whatever the reason, it certainly wasn't for a lack of food. If we'd been marooned, I don't think I'd have minded it much. There's plenty here to keep us going for months, if not years. And I see this lagoon's well-stocked."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, looking up from lacing her trousers.
"The fish you caught?" Jo gestured to a nearby rock. Six enormous fish were lined up on it, eyes bulging and blue scales glittering in the sun like polished gems.
Harry and Agnessa exchanged looks. "We didn't catch anything," said the former quietly. "I only had one bite, but naught came of it."
"Do brownies live in the Tropics?" Agnessa asked. "Maybe there's a little tribe of them here, with woven grass hats? Maybe they came with those hypothetical Dutch colonists and stayed behind?"
"Can't see brownies spear-fishing," Harry said thoughtfully, heaving up one of the fish and examining the precise punctures that had gone straight through its head, killing it instantly. It was heavy in her hands: easily a solid fifteen pounds. "Well, whoever left these here meant well. I say we take it as a good sign. Something on this island is leaving us gifts."
"I don't recognize the species, though," said Jo. "Perhaps they're poisonous?"
"Whatever left these is armed and probably quite strong. If it wanted to harm us, surely it would've already attacked. Agnessa and I have been alone for over an hour. Ample time to take care of us. No, I'm going to look at this as an unusual welcome. Nessa, why don't you take one and go on ahead."
She turned back to scan the peaceful lagoon. The waterfall hissed, birds in the trees trilled and squawked, and somewhere nearby a monkey shrieked.
But there was no sign of anything larger, and no footprints in the dirt and sand around the rocks.