"Surrender now, unless you'd like to see the inside of Davy Jones's locker!" She held her blade to the sailor lass's throat to make her point, holding fast to the sailor's hands to keep her from causing any trouble.
"I don't mean to put up a fight," the sailor stammered. "This here is just my little supply ship, to bring food and drink from port to port - and for the weary travelers out at sea."
"Search the decks!" the pirate captain ordered and her men stampeded across the deck of the little ship. Only then did she lower her blade, though she kept her grip on the sailor's hands. "I hope you have enough supplies to share with me and my crew."
"Certainly, if it's to your liking I could prepare a feast for you and your crew tonight in my own kitchens."
"And you ask nothing in return? Not gold, nor jewels, nor sights unseen?" The pirate captain grinned.
"I would not dare test a pirate's generosity."
"You are a clever lass." She let the sailor's hands go. "I accept your boon. Where are these kitchens of yours?"
The sailor led the pirate captain past her enterprising buccaneers, down into the hold of the small ship, into the dark, smoky kitchens, lined with tin and hung with dried goods, where one of her crew was already enjoying some cured meats left out to dry.
The captain stepped aside and motioned for the sailor to begin as she had promised. "Tonight, we shall have a feast."
"There are some supplies I shall need," the sailor said. "Eggs from the chickens, and a barrel of meat from below."
"Do as she says," the pirate captain said to her crewman.
He eagerly ran off to fetch the supplies and alert the rest of the crew of their good fortune.
Soon half the room was ablaze and the air rich with the smell of meat and spice and baking bread. The sailor worked at what must have been a frantic pace, but seemed only natural, chopping here, kneading there, stirring, tasting.
"You are a craftswoman," the pirate captain declared. "And you could have no more appreciative an audience."
"You are too kind," she said but did not look up from her work.
The captain stepped nearer, so the sailor nearly bumped into her as she turned from one task to another.
"If you are going to stand in the way, you may as well help," the sailor said, though she immediately faltered.
However, the pirate captain acquiesced. "What would you like me to do?"
And so she joined in kneading and chopping and stirring. They danced across the galley, passing each other one way then the other, one step nearer, one step back, reaching and twisting just out of each other's way.
And then she stopped directly in front of the sailor, catching her flour dusted hands, her sweat and soot streaked hair in wild disarray, and stole a kiss from spiced lips.
"You could have a place on my ship if you liked. The best ship's cook in the fleet."
"And what if I refused?"
The pirate captain released her hands. "If that is your will."
The sailor smiled. "I will consider it."
Writer's Month - word: wild | setting: on a ship
AUgust - Food Truck
Flufftober (catch-up August) - Slow Dancing and Cooking Lessons