Note: Yes, this has changed. I decided some exposition was required so I thought I would add this in as an opening.

The wind viciously whipped through Araminta's hair, but it was just the kind of wind she liked. The kind of wind that sent sea spray flying up from the front of her boat. Being barefoot on board was dangerous, but that didn't stop this odd female captain. Many called her mad, but she insisted that she had met many insane men and she was suffering from something far more perilous, something that could make seemingly normal people do things like try to drink five bottles of rum in five minutes or commandeer her father's ship or...leave the life of a noblewoman for the life of a pirate. That was the thing that most unfortunates Ara had met found most odd. Of course, men of the sea understood perfectly. That didn't mean they wanted her on their boat, though.

It's my boat, Ara thought. The Minta. Even named after me. Ara had killed for this boat. Killed her own father. Not that he was much of a father. Pushing these thoughts from her mind, Ara gave the wheel to her first mate. She walked quietly to the starboard railing. Her deep brown eyes scanned the horizon. Seeing a slight change in the distance she called up to the lookout in the crows nest.

"Walters, see anything? Down to the south there?"

"Huh, wha'?" Walters had apparently been napping. "The South? Where..."

"Straight ahead." She said it slowly so that he would understand.

"Ah...Land ho!"

Ara shook her head. "Thank ya, Walters."

"Araminta!" Ara sighed. The only person who called her that, besides her late father, was Johannes Jones. This man was her cook, placed in that profession not because of his skill in the galley but because that way he was below deck most of the time and Ara didn't have to deal with him. "Araminta!" Jones thought their relationship should be more intimate than just friends. Ara did not.

Running her hand through her long brown hair, lightened from years in the sun, and grungy from salt air and lack of hygiene, Ara sighed and turned to face him. "Go back to the galley, Jones."

"Well." He tossed his head and turned around, walking off.

" 'E's such a girl," Ara muttered. " 'ow did 'e ever become a pirate?"

" 'E's young. But yer right. 'Es very feminine. You must remember, yer twen'y sumthin' an' 'e's only…wha'…sixteen?"

"Griffin, 'ow could I ever 'ave done wivou' ya?"

"Ya didn'. I been 'ere long before you."

Griffin had been Ara's father figure as she grew up, teaching her the Code, as well as what was "right" and "wrong", at least as far as pirates go.

"I dunno why ya suffered my father as long as ya did. Stupid drunkard."

"That drunkard was yer father, lass," Griffin hated speaking of her father, "and I know I included not killing family members in my lessons to ya in youth. Besides, the drink was in 'is blood. An Irisher 'e was."

"Griffin no one's said that fer hundreds o' years—"

"That same blood runs through yer veins—"

"Yes, but I don' get drunk." She spat the word.

Griffin raised a gray eyebrow.

Instead of correcting her false statement Ara lifted her head proudly and walked farther toward the front of the ship, basking in the sunlight near the bow. I need my hat, she thought as she felt the sun staining her skin even darker than it already was. Her Caribbean mother had given her a darker complexion than her father had.

After fetching her hat and spending nearly half an hour trying to avoid Jones, Ara was topside again. Feeling the wind slam her face, she darted over to the mast and flew up the rigging, never slowing, finding the foot- and handholds easily, pausing on the topmast trestletree. The wind whipped her hair into her face, blocking her view, so she just closed her eyes and enjoyed the smells off the sound and the sound of her beloved Minta.

Unfortunately, Ara could not escape Jones later that night. Standing on the rail again, Ara stared out at sea, actually listening to what Jones was saying. He was telling her about his childhood and his parents who were cruel enough to refuse him to marry the prostitute he had fallen madly in love with.

When he got to the part about how "she took her life because she couldn't have me," Are turned and stared at him. Eyes sad, but face dry, she said, "Yer parents cared about ya enough to keep you from marrying some whore and yer here complainin' to me about i'? Me, whose mother sho' herself when her drunken father forced said mother to give 'im her child."

"Her child?"

"Uuuugh!" Ara screamed and pushed Jones out of her way to climb the rigging to the topmast trestletree for the second time that day.

"Her child?" Jones was looking around him for someone to explain to him.

"Ara. Her child Araminta." Griffin appeared behind Jones. "Where's yer 'ead boy?" Griffin walked off into the night.

"Well." Jones tossed his head and walked off.

"Cap'n. CAP'N!" Ara's eyes snapped open.

"What Walters?"

"A ship! There's a ship…it's—"

"What ship Walters?"

He faltered.

"What ship?!"

"It's the Pearl…"

Ara's eyes widened. "Griffin!" she called as she scrambled down the ropes. "Prepare the ship for battle. It's the Pearl!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lies are just friends you haven't met yet.

                                                --Sheen from Jimmy Neutron