The first four days at sea passed by in a bit of a blur. It hadn't been very hard for me to adapt to life aboard the Sunrise; it was nearly identical to how it had been on the Wanderlust. The only differences being that the ship was quite a bit larger and I had a friend stowed away somewhere.

I hadn't seen Jack since the day we left port which, I suppose, was a good thing. It meant he wasn't getting himself into trouble. I did worry about him a bit, though—What was he using for food? For water? What was he doing when he had to relieve himself?

'I suppose those are things I should be glad I don't have to know about,' I told myself as I laid in my hammock. 'Though, it still surprises me that pirates have an age limit on sailing. I can understand why, though, given how dangerous things can be.'

Around me, the snores, grunts, and sleep-addled murmurs of the crew filled the air, occasionally punctuated by the loud 'blap' or squeaky whistle of someone farting. This crew was, by far, much louder than the crew of the Wanderlust, making it a bit hard to get to sleep at times.

This, sadly, was one of those times.

And what really didn't help was the dull ache in my upper thigh from where I had been smacked, quite hard, by a belaying pin. Being out at sea meant plenty of downtime, so one of the activities the crew did to keep boredom at bay was by sparring one another. Not only did it keep them in practice for when it came time to attack a ship, but it also kept the crew fit (as if climbing the rigging and hauling on ropes for a few hours every day wasn't enough).

Before going against a few of the crewmembers, I thought I had been quite decent when it came to sword fighting. As it turns out, however, I was quite decent at polite sword-fighting, but I had a ways to go in learning the underhanded tricks and maneuvers used by pirates. It seemed like anything went when it came to fighting a pirate, as they would throw punches, try to kick your feet out from under you, and use anything around them to help them win the fight.

Including belaying pins, which made surprisingly good clubs.

Unable to get comfortable because of my leg, I carefully rolled out of my hammock (luckily, I was in a bottom hammock, so I didn't have to worry about falling on anyone) and stood upright. There wasn't much in the way of light as I made my way towards the stairs—just a couple of lanterns hanging from the ceiling—but I was able to make it across the room with relative ease.

I climbed the stairs and came out on deck. It was fairly dark out here as well, though the stars and half-moon offered enough light to keep the deck lit. I wasn't alone up here; there was a handful of crewmembers awake and wandering about, making sure the ship was continuing to sail smoothly while everyone else slept. Because of this, I went over to the railing near the forwardmost part of the deck in order to stay out of the way. Then, looking around and finding that no one was paying me any heed, I hopped over the railing and fell just a few feet onto the beak of the ship.

A small, relieved sigh left my mouth as I felt the spray of the ocean against my legs. As much as I wanted to hope over the edge and dive into the ocean's depths, I resisted the urge and leaned back against the wall, my hands tucked behind me. I would have to be content with just feeling the spray for now.

While I stood there, breathing the air deep into my lungs, I noticed that there was a slight heaviness in the air. The ocean, too, felt ever so slightly rougher than normal. "Rain's coming," I quietly said aloud to myself. "Probably six or seven hours out…"

"Quite a specific guess yer makin' lad."

My eyes shot open and, looking up, I saw Captain Tremaine staring down at me in amusement. Before I could say anything, she hopped over the railing, joining me down on the beak. She was surprisingly spry for someone her age; I hoped that, if I lived to be as old as her, I would be just as agile.

"I see I'm not the only one who enjoys the solace o' the ship's bow," she smiled, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat while leaning back against the wall. She then crossed one ankle over the other, looking quite relaxed—as she should. This was her ship, after all. "What makes ye think rain's comin'?"

"The air's a bit heavier now than it was a few hours ago," I explained. I wouldn't mention the detail about the waves; that was still rather imperceptible to normal people. "That usually means rain is on the way. At least, that's what I was taught, captain." I made sure to not use 'ma'am', as Gizem had told me how much Tremaine hated that word.

Tremaine's brow rose; whether or not she believed me, I couldn't tell. More than likely, she didn't. "Interesting," she said. "How's yer leg doin', by the way? Roberts hit ye pretty hard earlier."

"Hurts like hell to be honest, but I'm getting use to it."

A bit of concern came to her features. "He hit ye that hard?"

"Aye, but like I said, I'm getting used to it, captain."

"Let me see."

My brows furrowed slightly. "Er…I'd have to drop my trousers, captain. He got me pretty far up."

"Ye act like I 'aven't seen a few cocks in my life, lad," she told me, her voice bland as hardtack. "Anyway, we're pirates; decency's been thrown t' the wind."

I cleared my throat and, not wanting to get on her bad side, I started to undo my trousers. "Thing is, captain, I don't exactly have a cock."

It was her turn to frown. "Ye what?"

"Don't have a cock, captain," I replied. "I'm a lass." Being unused to dropping my trousers around other people, I felt thankful that, as mine fell, my shirt proved long enough to keep my bits covered. Not for long, however, as Tremaine grabbed my shirt and lifted it up enough to find that I did, indeed, lack male parts. I was thankful my face was hidden by shadow, as my cheeks had turned as red as a beet when I instinctively pushed my shirt back down.

I also hoped Jack was nowhere within hearing or sight range…

"Bloody hell…ye've had me convinced this whole time yer a lad," she murmured, letting go of my shirt. Then, spotting the large, bright-red bruise on my thigh, she swore and leaned over to get a better look. "Roberts did get ye hard. That's goin' t' be there for quite a while." Shaking her head, she stood upright again and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's not the worst bruise I've had," I assured her. Quickly, I pulled my trousers up and tucked my shirt back into place before doing them up. "I'll be used to it soon enough."

She nodded slowly, though she didn't seem entirely convinced. "How do ye hide yer chest?" she then asked, probably figuring it best to drop the subject for now.

"I keep it bound down with bandages." I pulled the neck of my shirt down a bit, showing her the topmost portion of the wraps. "It helps that my chest isn't very large to begin with."

"Hm. Ye should use wider bandages," she said. "The thinner ones are good for short term binding, aye, but wider ones are best for long term. Keeps the pressure more evenly distributed an' makes it less likely ye'll get a deformed bosom. Not t' mention, they're quicker t' take off when its time t' do some bedtime frolickin'."

Committing her words to memory and quietly laughing, I nodded. "I'll be sure to remember that, captain. Thank you."

She moved to lean against the wall once more. "I know what it's like, wantin' t' keep yer gender under wraps—pun not intended. Yer not the first lass I've met whose taken on a male identity in order t' keep themselves safe on the high seas. Hell, I did it for the first fifteen or so years I was at sea. It only came out I was a woman because I got pregnant…but by then, I was feared enough that no one tried anythin' against me."

I also returned to my spot against the wall, feeling the heat finally leaving my cheeks. "I don't know if I'll ever get that well known, captain," I said with a small chuckle.

"Ye never know. I didn't plan on becomin' a feared pirate, but 'ere I am. Also, ye don't need t' call me 'cap'n' all the time. Unlike other cap'ns, I don't mind informal nicknames." She snorted. "How did ye get so good at actin' like a lad, by the way? Ye grow up on the streets or somethin'?"

"No, nothing like that. It started out with me wanting to spite my stepfather and led to my dad teaching me how to walk, talk, and act like a man." Stealing a look at her, I could see confusion on her face.

"Yer dad's still alive…yet ye had a stepdad?" she questioned. Divorce wasn't a very common thing, so I didn't blame her for her confusion.

"I'm the result of some extra-marital bedtime frolicking between him and my mother."

She nodded in understanding, a bit amused that I had used her words from earlier. "An' he hated yer stepdad enough t' teach ye how t' be a lad, hm? I suppose he also taught ye how t' handle a sword as well?" I nodded as well. "Sounds like a bloke I'd like t' meet. I'm surprised, though. Most dads don't want their lil' girls growin' up t' be pirates, let alone male pirates. I know mine didn't."

"Oh, he knows full well my real home has always been the sea, so he doesn't mind that I've become a sailor. Not so sure how he'd react to me becoming a pirate, though…"

She snorted again. "Somethin' tells me if he taught ye how t' be a man, he's not goin' t' mind ye turnin' pirate." She then pointed a finger at me as if she had suddenly remembered something. "Have ye had any cycles while at sea yet?"

"A handful, aye."

"How do ye deal with them?"

"Er, well, they're the reason I wear dark trousers, to be honest."

"Alright. What ye need t' do in addition t' dark trousers is t' make yerself a couple o' long, cloth pouches. Ye stuff 'em with bits o' cloth yer not going t' be usin' again or even some grass or straw, sew it up, an' keep it in place against ye usin' a girdle. When ye think it's got as much waste as it can hold, ye switch it out for a fresh one an' wash the used one. It can be a bit tricky if yer tryin' t' keep yerself hidden, but it's a lot better than bleedin' all over yerself an' possibly bleedin' on somethin' noticeable."

I nodded in understanding, committing that to memory as well—it sounded like it would be more comfortable in the long run, too. "When you were still going around as a lad, was there anyone you trusted enough to tell the truth to? Aside from whoever got you pregnant, I mean."

"I had a small group o' friends who knew, though a good portion o' them were also women," she answered. "Took me years t' come t' trust them, though. When I was your age, the sea was far more dangerous place for a woman. Still is a dangerous place for us if ye can't defend yerself well, but ye look an' act enough like a man that ye don't have t' worry. Well, for the most part ye don't have t' worry."

My brow rose as that. "What do you mean, 'for the most part'?"

"If ye get injured, ye best hope it's on a limb or yer face—that is, unless yer doctor's a woman, too. An' ye best hope ye don't fall into the ocean while yer on yer cycle." She then shook a scolding finger at me. "Which is why, when ye get those pouches made, ye best be extra careful when yer cleanin' them."

At the thought of sharks coming in for a snack because of my cycle, I stuck my tongue out. I already didn't like sharks—few sailors did—so this only made me dislike them more. My reaction apparently amused Tremaine, as she snorted loudly.

"Not a pretty thought, is it?" she chuckled. Shaking her head, she let out a small sigh. "I take it, then, ye'd like for me t' keep referrin' t' ye as a lad?"

"That would be preferable, aye."

She nodded. "Alright then. Now, lad, how long was it ye said it'd be until we should be expectin' rain?"

"Six or seven hours. Maybe less, if we're sailin' into it." Which we were.

"An' your sure o' this?"

"Aye, captain."

Tremaine was silent for a long moment; when I looked at her, her eyes were shut and there was a contemplative look on her face. "If yer right…I'll give ye a double ration o' rum."

I grinned, my brows rising. "And if I'm wrong?"

"Hm. No rum ration. Sound fair?" She grinned, her brow raised.

"You're the captain. Whether or not I say it's fair doesn't matter."

Tremaine didn't seem to like this answer, as she reached over and gave the end of my nose a hard flick. "Bein' cap'n doesn't mean shite if ye don't treat yer crew well, lad," she scolded, watching me as I rubbed my nose. "Just because I say something's fair don't mean it is. Don't let yerself be talked into unfair deals just because someone's o' a higher rank than ye, understand, lad? An' this goes for people outside o' piracy, too. Just because they got money don't mean anythin'."

"Understood," I replied, my nose still stinging slightly, but not enough to be a bother.

"Good. Now, get yerself back t' bed soon, alright? If there actually is rain comin', that means there's a chance o' a storm comin' with it. An' if we run into a storm, yer goin' t' need your strength for dealin' with the sails." Turning around, she climbed up onto the base of the bowsprit.

"I will. I just need a little bit more fresh air before I go back."

"Good. Yer a fairly likeable fellow an' ye listen t' orders real well. It'd be a shame t' have ye fall t' yer death because ye didn't get enough sleep." She gave me a small wink before pulling herself up and over the railing.

"Good to know the captain likes me," I mumbled.

Now truly alone, I sighed and slid down the wall until I was sitting; the position put pressure on my bruise and it started to throb with pain, but I ignored it. Tremaine had given me some good advice, both in regards to being a woman at sea and to life in general. I was actually rather thankful she had brought the subject up first—even if it was in a rather embarrassing fashion.

'Never thought I'd be ordered to drop my trousers like that,' I thought, letting my head rest against the wall. 'At least it was by another woman…'