This is mostly an attempt at getting back to writing. I've been meaning to continue stories I've already posted, on this account and others, but I seem to have completely dropped the habit. Please be patient with me! :)
"Come all you young sailor men, listen to me,
I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea"
It was a balmy afternoon in Nassau and bits of the shrubbery near the tavern was trembling, but from something far more solid than the wind. The girl, or rather the young woman, peaked out from behind the leafwork.
Okay, okay, let's do a headcount. Right. Who's here, let's see..there's Charles Vane, best steer clear of him. Oh dear, Edward Thatch. Really? This is getting seriously scary! Too many pirates in one spot mate! Okay don't freak out! No freakin's here. Hornigold is at the bar along with Adéwale, which must mean that his Captain isn't far away. Aaand there he comes, along with James Kidd. So, all the pirates from the game just so happens to here, at the same place, at the same time. Now, what the fuck am I doing here?!
Joan looked down at her attire. Thank god for fancy dress parties! Brown cotton pants, light leather shoes, a basic men's size shirt, a thigh-long dark green jacket. Not too suspicious, all things considered. She looked back at the collection of pirates converging at Nassau's watering hole, laughing and drinking and cajoling without a care in the world, completely unaware that a woman from the 21st Century; a world where theirs were the lives of fiction, was currently watching them from a patch of shrubbery.
This was a problem. She couldn't even go up and get a drink of some sort in a careful attempt at blending in. She didn't have any money on her, and certainly no "Reales". But perhaps, if she was clever, she could get some.
Nassau seemed to be doing well, prospering as much as a pirate-run town could, but even pirates need some sort of organization. A stash of weapons, ammunition, rum and money. Think Joan! Not the bar, too central, too obvious. One of the ships? Nah, too vulnerable. Perhaps in the outskirts of the town. Either way, it's high time to quit being such a creeper and leave the shrubbery before some inebriated soul finds her.
Luckily enough it was dusk, so if anyone saw the shape of a young woman suddenly appearing from behind the tree, no one would believe them. Head down and walking as casually as possible Joan walked towards the forest, away from the tavern and the raucous laughter of the buccaneers. Taking deep breaths and trying not to panic at the fact that she had somehow ended up inside a video game, Joan walked on.
Hello lovely. The first and only applicant so far to her theory turned out to be a smallish house with a separate cellar door, the only one she had seen so far. Looking over her shoulder to check that she was alone, Joan stepped up to the hatch in the ground. A rough padlock kept it closed but with the help of a nearby spade and some carefully applied(brute) force, Joan could pry it open.
Very little sunlight remained in the sky but it was just enough for her to spot the gleaming of metal down below. Hands brushing against the damp walls, Joan descended.
It was stifling, the heat from the day lingering, the only noise in the small space was her footsteps and her own breath. Making use of the last light she rummaged around, looking through crates and the like until her fingers met the round smooth surface of coin, some lying loose, some in pouches. There seemed to be no proper organization of the currency so Joan grabbed a pouch on random, hurriedly closing the lid and scurrying up the stairs. Just as she was closing the hatch she heard voices.
"Oy Kidd, ya need any help? That crate looks heavier than you, man!" Joan would know those Welsh tones anywhere; Edward Kenway. Coming this way. And from the sound of it, James Kidd as well. Crap. Joan tried to hurry with the padlock but froze momentarily when she remembered that she'd broken it to get inside in the first place. Double crap. She looked between the lock and the sound of the voices. She heard Kidd answer but couldn't focus on the words, only the blood pumping in her ears. Civil twilight or no, she could still make out the tensing of Kidd's frame as he came round the corner, spotting her by their not-so-secret stash. She didn't need to see his eyes to know that they looked between her form, the pouch of coin in her hand and the shovel by the hatch.
He dropped the crate at the same time Joan started running.
The angry shouts of Kidd echoed back from Kenway and Joan assumed she now had both on her tail. Two pirates, both skilled in the art of killing and climbing in rigs, both with better knowledge of this island. Running seemed futile but she had to try! Sure, they seemed reasonable to each other in the game, sometimes even pleasant, but then again Joan had never finished it. Who knew what they might do to a thief?
She nearly collided with a tree before jumping over a log, the vegetation full of roots and vines that almost tripped her time and time again. Come on Joan, change directions. You need to shake 'em. She ducked abruptly beneath a huge tree's roots, holding her breath despite the screaming of her lungs as she heard them both pass her by. Ten seconds, then I run. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eig- oh fuck it! She took to the right and ran as fast as she could, trying hard not to make too much noise. Jump, duck, sprint, jump, stumble, get up, sprint. This went on for what felt like forever before she found another tree to hide behind. Calming herself she listened. And listened. And listened.
And heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. No footsteps, no curses, no jeering shouts with ominous threats. Joan could feel panic creep up on her again. Why couldn't she hear them?! Surely it wasn't that easy?
It was now completely dark, the trees not even letting the moonlight through their intricate canopy. Joan took a step away from the tree and looked at it as best she could in the darkness. From what she could make out it was fairly young, meaning it had a lot of branches low on the trunk. Taking a deep breath she grabbed the closest branch.
Joan couldn't tell how much time she spent on climbing that tree, it was too dark to look at the small watch she carried on a chain round her neck. Eventually she found a branch thick enough to relax on without fear of sliding down. As if to add insult to injury a clap of thunder shook the silence of the night, followed immediately by big drops of water crashing down upon Joan where she sat, huddled against the thick trunk and the vines growing around it. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as her heart settled.
The perfect end to a perfect day.
" And it's-
Windy weather, boys, stormy weather, boys.
When the wind blows, we're all together, boys;
Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow,
Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes."
