Lady Amy Goodwin pardon, she only ever used that title amongst her fathers guests. The Crimson lady, lifted her skirts in a slow swagger as she made her way across the dark docks back to her boat. She had consumed a fair amount of drink while at her fathers formal dance and was having difficulty walking straight it had been gruellingly boring and she had required the need of rum to pass the time.
She once had more fun pulling a ball from her leg after having been shot while raiding a bottom heavy trading vessel full of fresh goods from the east. Hell, she had more fun fighting for her life when cornered by five crazed natives of the Bleeding Rock Isles. She had been searching for a treasure that simply didnt exist, which left her in a very sour mood. To top it all off she had nothing more than a boot knife with which to defend herself for she had broken her sword trying to pry open an empty box and her pistol was sitting at the bottom of a lagoon that she had stumbled into earlier while trying to find the stupid empty treasure chest.
To put it bluntly, the formal dance was painfully slow and dull. Amy stumbled and swore as the heel of her boot caught in a knot in a wooden plank. She managed to right herself, but not before hearing her frilly dresses tear down the side. Amy stopped, clutched her fists and growled before reaching in between her squished breasts and pulling out a small blade. It sat between her knuckles and was no longer than her small finger. She used it to slice down the front of her skirts, freeing herself from its confines. After shaking herself free from the dress and re-gaining the ability to breath without her breasts being pushed up towards her chin, she began walking back towards her boat. She could hear whistles and calls from drunken sailors as she marched on in nothing more than skin tight leggings and a brazier that only covered half her belly and hugged and hid little of her chest. She was used to such calls and jeers. Men always gawked at her and she hated it. The men on her boat never whistled at her like that otherwise they would have their tongues cut from their mouths and some had.
She rounded the last corner before finally seeing her beautiful Maiden. She was the fastest ship on 3 sails, and she had taken her into countless battles and raids. Ron, of course, was standing at the top of the on-plank with his massive arms crossed over his solid barrel chest. She had never seen a bigger man. He was her massive guard dog. He always dressed in black and rarely shaved his dark sandpaper stubble away. He could scare barnacles off the bottom of any boat, and keep her ship running smoothly in her absence. Wilfred her fathers man servant, was at the foot of the on-plank standing as stiff as a man with a broomstick shoved up his backside, with his nose cocked upwards and pointed out. He was always finely dressed without a speck of dust or stray fabric.
"Madame" he bowed as she drew closer. Of course he bowed at the waist keeping his spine perfectly straight she wouldnt have been surprised to look behind him and see the brush of a broom sticking out of his backside. Amy walked right up to him and put her hands on her hips daring him to comment on her clothing. He didnt move he didnt look down at her overly-exposed cleavage and he didnt dare raise a finger in point she would have snapped his fingers had he done anything so brazen. Yet his determined patience always won out. I couldnt walk in that stupid dress Amy fumed. As always, Wilfred made an excellent point with but one comment, "If your father finds the dress in the hands of beggars or drunks he will think the worst had happened and send men out everywhere to find you." Amy growled, looked away, and then pointed in the general direction as to where she had left it. Wilfred calmly walked away without a word his spine as straight as ever and his stride as careful and as slow as a duck holding an egg wedged between its butt cheeks. He always dealt with her problems.
He always cleaned up her messes when she was docked at Queenstown. But he never did say anything to her father so far as she knew. After waiting a few minutes to make sure Wilfred was out of ear-shot she turned and barked "RON!" Ron, her loyal guard and first mate, turned towards the deck and began barking orders "Haul Anchor! Lower Sails! Cut loose all lines!" he continued on barking his orders just like the massive mad and loyal dog that he was. And everyone that was within his field of vision began a panicked race and dance to finish their assigned tasks. It was all too familiar, and all too boring. Amy stomped her way back up the on-plank onto her baby the Maiden and then headed straight for her cabins. She didnt want to talk to anyone for the night. She just wanted to wallow and enjoy the pain of the ensuing headache and hangover that would follow with the dawn.