Miles fidgeted nervously outside the cabin door, shifting uneasily from foot to foot as he sifted through the pile of yellowed documents in his arms. Their interception could prove a God-send in lieu of the downward spiral business had taken as of late. True, money and product had never really poured in, per se (though Miss Harlie and Madam Keiko were far from the bottom rung of their profession), but this slump was just ridiculous. They hadn’t had a good cash-in in what seemed like weeks, though what disturbed Miles and his cohorts more than this slip in business was Keiko’s temperament. It was obviously beginning to wear on her nerves, and that knowledge alone set him on his toes as he raised his hand to knock on the cabin door. Images of the formidable female literally throwing Scravey across the threshold that he was about to cross chased themselves round Miles’ mind as he awaited to be called in. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Enter!†a gruff female voice called from within. Miles had a moment of hesitation before the voice became impatient and called again. “I said ’Enter’!†A heavy sigh escaped the man’s lanky form as he cautiously pushed the door open and peered inside. As his eyes adjusted he took a moment and gazed round the room, trying to locate his boss. It was a difficult task in the elegant cabin, whose red and purple stained glass windows dimmed the bright afternoon sunlight. Shadows shaped and reshaped themselves, chasing each other around the walls and across the decadent furniture. Miles watched the hazy bird-like wraiths flit over the Arabian couch on the starboard wall, dipping and soaring with the ocean breezes outside until they came to rest around a great oak desk centered against the far wall.
Under normal conditions, the stained-glass windows behind it would have added a warm, comfortable element to the room, but that effect was quickly lost on Keiko’s right-hand man as he considered his situation and nervously looked around, still trying to locate the short-fused head-of-ship. It only took a moment longer, for as the young man’s eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cabin, he saw her. Standing across the room behind a study-table positively strewn with maps and documents was the Captain. She didn’t seem to notice him at first as he made his way across the cabin, his boots making a somewhat hollow sound as he strode towards her, wondering what in blazes she was looking at so closely.
As he reached the table, he found that it was map that his superior was hunched over, pinned to the middle of the table and dotted with tacks of every color and sort. Her long white tresses brushed the table as she perused the document, following an ocean current pattern with a long, elegant finger, gloved as always. She muttered something under her breath to herself that was hardly audible for Miles, though he could tell from her tone that she was not happy. Something about that current… In his curiosity, the younger sailor gently set the veritable paper-mill of documents down on a divan behind him and moved to peer more closely at the map himself, hoping that he wasn’t doing something that would put his immediate life in danger.
“Ah, the British shipping lanes,†he commented, seeing now the woman’s spidery handwriting covering the currents and tides of the map.
“Yes, the shipping lanes,†Keiko answered as she straightened herself and gazed at him from slightly narrowed sapphire depths. She took another quick look at the map and ran a hand through her long, white tresses to get them out of her face- an action that reminded Miles of just how… unusual his Captain was. True, she had cheated Death at least as many times as he could count on his fingers and toes, and she had an inhuman ruthlessness about her. But in all truth and honesty, he was sure that it was the woman’s looks from whence all the stories about her inhumanity sprung. Looking at her face, he was reminded of an elf or faerie from the book of Irish lore that sat beside his bunk. The long, elegant features, the almond-shaped eyes… he was almost sure that her ears were pointed. A swift sweeping motion to roll up the map however, and the moment was over and gone. It was no supernatural beauty that stood before him anymore, but a deadly one whose eyes were silently demanding an explanation for his intrusion.
“Um… We may.. May have found something that could be of some use, Madam,†he managed, picking up the papers and laying them on the table before her. With seemingly little interest she idly sifted through them, not daring to show her hope that it was something of actual use. True, Keiko loved her crew more than she was willing to admit to them, but they could really be a bunch of bungling idiots at times, and over the past weeks she had been brought everything under the sun that “could be of some useâ€. In fact, she had thrown Scravey out just the other day for bringing her a worthless flier for an auction. But these looked a tad different. These were official documents, sealed by the Royal trading company and signed by the Governor of Jamaica himself and the head of the… East India Trading Company?! The name struck the woman like a blow to the head and in her surprise she picked up the document to view it fully and found that it was a list of all the cargo the ship would be carrying and more importantly, the route it would be taking. This could be the biggest raid in a month’s worth of work! She skimmed the rest of the document, anxiously looking for the most important piece of information. Finally, near the bottom she found it. The invoice was signed and dated for the fifth of May. With a quick tally on her fingers the Captain realized that gave them little more than a week to get going if they were going to catch this thing.
“Where did you find this?†she demanded, her eyes glittering dangerously. If this turned out to be for real, they were in for quite a pay-day and if it turned out to be a load of crap, she was going to personally tar and feather whomever had given this to Miles to taunt her with. Her right-hand man, of course, knew this and found himself hesitant to answer her, casting his gaze at the floor for a moment before answering her.
“Well, Madam, Pilontus went ashore and intercepted it from a messenger. We’re not sure, but the man DID have the royal seal on his bag and his uniform…â€
A wicked grin spread across Keiko’s face as her eyes lit up with an almost feral glitter of ambition. She gazed from the document to a smaller map on the table and back, mentally beginning to figure out what course would best intersect with that of the doomed freighter. Her attention was absorbed in this newest venture and she could feel some of her anger beginning to slip the tiniest bit. With a contented sigh of approval, she walked out from behind the table, past Miles and made her way to a rack behind her desk. From there, she grabbed her sword, an elegant rapier appropriately named “Fallenâ€, for around about the hilt it had the most detailed design of a feather and a demon claw. After making sure it was secure on her person, the Captain took down a small, elegant pistol and secured it in a holster on her hip before turning around to face Miles. There was a sense of excitement about her as she walked by him again, this time, to the coat-rack where her crimson jacket and black, feathered hat resided. “Miles, send word to Harlie to rally her men and meet us in Port Royal,†she said as she adjusted the hat on her head. Once situated, she turned on her heel and headed for the cabin door, where she stopped for a moment and turned to him, a mischievous grin crossing her features. “After all, if we’re going to attack their two ships, we’re going to need a couple more men.â€
Whether it was the sparkle of ambition or the blood-lust with which Miles knew Keiko fought, he couldn’t be sure, but somehow he could tell that this was going to prove more than any of them had bargained for when signing on with her.
Thus a few days later, Keiko's men found themselves reunited with Harlie's in the infamous port, helping the two Captains search out prospective crew-members.
_________________ "And these children that you spit upon
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultation
They're quite aware of what they're going through"
--- David Bowie
|