The open sea was staring back at her and her eyes seemed to reflect the blues and hints of green that glimmered on the surface of the water. Her face was tanned from endless days on her ship, and her knee length coat was a dark crimson with black edging, and silver buttons that traveled down her front. The shirt that she donned underneath was tattered and faded just as much as her pants. Her love had always been with the ocean and she always wanted to test its waters. Never afraid of anything that came her way, panic never overcame her, her mind seemed to be the most rational when panic and fear struck most people. Her attitude was a mixture of calm, demanding, and humorous, and that was what made her the best captain that her crew had ever seen.

Marie turned around and walked over to the ships wheel, her black weathered boots clunking every step of the way, and checked her compass and map. They were heading too far East; her aim was the islands just south of the American Colonies. She turned the wheel a bit and let La Belle Morte sail toward the horizon. The wind blew her shoulder length black hair back and her fingers drifted to her belt, where she kept her own personal arsenal. One sword, that she handcrafted herself, was hanging on her left side, which gave her right hand easy access. Three daggers were stashed in different places, two of them were on the left side of her belt and one of them was strapped to her calf. That knife was never used, because she never needed it. That was only used if she had no other weaponry. If her sword and first two daggers were gone and her two pistols had run out of ammunition. Marie had fashioned herself a harness that would carry her guns on the sides of her chest, it was virtual invisible, for it was attached to the inside of her jacket. If she ever needed to take off the jacket during a fight she could grab the guns and put them in their other designated places on her belt. Over her shoulder and across her chest she carried a pouch full of black powder, and a pouch full of spherical bullets/

She stared out at her ship and watched her small crew keep up the life of its wooden decks. Its cannons were not the best but they had brought down ships twice their size with them. It was a loss, since the possessions went down with the ship, but she felt proud nonetheless. The crew was made up of four men and though she tried many times to bring another woman aboard, they just never seemed up to the task. They would get homesick and complain about how they didn't think there would be this many days at sea. It utterly baffled Marie because she couldn't think of anything more satisfying than being in open water.

She jumped down onto the lower deck and said, "C'mon! We got to keep up our strength! Tomorrow we arrive at the islands." Marie walked into the ship and felt a rush cool air. It was always a little cooler below because the water that slapped against the sides of the ship cooled down the wood. Marie sat on one end of the table while the men conversed with each other at the other end. She always knew not to talk with her crew too much because she didn't want them to see her as a woman. She wanted them to see and respect her as Captain Davis. She ate her share of chicken and fourth orange for the day, and then went back out. She just couldn't keep away from the deck. The sea breeze tickled her nose and she could smell the salt in the air, but there was something else there. Something that she could never describe, but knew what it meant. Out on the horizon she saw exactly what she expected, a dark shadow moving steadily toward her with flashes of light coming out of it.

Marie ran down back to the crew and exclaimed, "Drop your food! There's a storm coming from the West. Get on deck, men!" They jumped from their seats and ran from the table onto the deck.

Their faces changed to something between worry and fright. Bailey turned around and looked at her. "But, Captain. That storm is huge; we'll be torn to bits if we sail through it. Can't we go around it somehow?"

Marie stared out into the ominous clouds and said, "La Belle Morte can handle it. Besides, if we go around we'll lose another day, we can't afford that right now." She ran up to the wheel and faced the storm with that funny little twinge of a smile that made her crew members question her sanity. "Get into your positions. We're taking the waves in stride!" She flipped open her compass and saw it spinning around as if not sure what to do, she knew where she was going though. Even though her conscience was yelling at her from inside her head she ignored it. The clouds were now swirling about ten feet from the bow of the ship and her hands gripped the wheel with white knuckles.

The first wave she saw coming and spun the wheel as fast as she could. La Belle Morte leaned right and took the wave with the only the courage that small ships seem to have. The second wave crashed onto the deck with brute force and Marie heard her wood scream in agony. La Belle Morte was putting up one hell of a fight. She swayed with the direction of the next wave but her wood was splintering. Marie said the only thing that she could think of and never thought that she would ever have to say. "Abandon ship! Get into the boat!" She saw Bailey, Reed, Lee, and Fitzgerald dropped their ropes and run to the boat as another wave crashed on the ship and they felt it jerk downward a couple feet. It made her stumble a little bit but Marie kept her feet and didn't move an inch toward the boat that she gave her crew permission to get into. They didn't try to make her come with them either, because they understood.

Marie was going with her ship she was going to go with La Belle Morte because that was how a captain should go. Never in battle or in prison, it was honorable to die with the sea, and that was the only way she wanted to die. But as she heard the thunder in her ears she felt that she would still go down with the ship, but if she could get out of it alone she would try. She would let the men get away on the easy path, but the challenge was for her.

Marie grabbed the wheel once more and spun it left and smiled with an insane look on her face. Her clothes were three times heavier than they once were but that didn't stop her. She didn't bother with the masts because the one thing that she could control was the wheel, and that was what was going to save her life if nothing else did. Wave after wave her hands flew over the ships wheel and she rode the sea's rage and wrath with ease. A good 50 feet away Marie saw the water much calmer. The storm was still happening but with less fiery energy. She stared at that shred of hope while she steered La Belle Morte to safety. Once on those slightly calmer waters she saw land. Oh thank God! , Was all that went through her head.

Marie steered toward the deck and jumped off the edge of her ship and onto the wooden planks jutting out from the land. She turned her body around to look at La Belle Morte as she went to her watery grave. Marie's hand went to her heart as she said a short good bye and a prayer to her only tie to the sea. The sad ship had lasted long enough to give its captain a second chance at life. The one tear on her cheek was indistinguishable from the rain falling on her face. She turned and walked toward land with a different air about her. Marie kicked up mud as she looked for a place to stay. Her eyes found a sign hanging above her head that read, "Tortuga Tavern."