Ahoy!

Thank you to Mel, Jill, and Gemma!

FOURTEEN

I am no stranger to the sea. She is my home, the only place in the wide world where I have ever found any real comfort. On the water, I feel like my true self.

Despite Isabella and her frankly bewildering personality, it does not take long for me to find refuge at sea once more. I throw myself into work that needs to be done, whether it's working on bowlines, or scrubbing the deck. I'm happy to have tasks to focus on.

The further we get from the Caribbean, the less I see the piratess as well. She spends long hours in the Captain's quarters, charting our course, and it's only during the occasional night watches we share that we spend any real time together.

Each time we are on watch, she is as forward as always, but I can see in her eyes a distraction. Though her wicked tongue may be goading me, her mind is elsewhere.

I'm surprised by how much I'd like to know where that complex mind truly is.

For the most part though, my days are as predictable as days can be upon the sea. It is hard work, but there is no other work I'd rather be doing.

Captain Thorne is a firm but fair captain, and it is clear that though I had my skepticism about her crew, they are all truly loyal to her.

I've never sailed with women like this before, and though I thought it might take adjustment, it does not. Every member of Captain Thorne's crew is hardworking and knowledgeable, and soon they are not simply strangers, they are closer to friends.

I am particularly amused by an older gentleman by the name of Demitri Ariti, who left his homeland of Greece as a young man in favor of sailing to the New World aboard a Spanish fleet. Despite the fact that he is presumably a deserter of his country, the old man is funny and kind, and he offers amusing and strange anecdotes that help pass the endless days in open sea.

"Don't you know what manner of beast hunts these waters?" Demitri asks, his voice as rough as his scarred face. I look up at him from where I am carefully winding up ropes.

"Pray tell," says a young lad beside me by the name of Benjamin. I glance at the boy, smirking. He's barely seventeen summers, and his face still holds all the signs of someone younger. I doubt the lad has even had his first shave yet. Despite his age, he has proven to be capable and more than willing to listen and learn.

Across from where I sit, Jasper looks up from where he is carefully whittling a small figurine. His gaze meets my own, and both of us have to work to hide a smile at the boy's eagerness.

Demitri seems all too pleased to have a captive audience.

"Every sailor worth his salt knows some waters are cursed," he starts, his face grave. "Terrible beasties that lurk under the surface, waiting for a ship to cross their paths." His face is menacing as he speaks, and beside me, Benjamin stills, his attention fixed on the old sailor. "Sea serpents, goliaths, and demons too terrible to describe," Demitri goes on. "But the worst of all these creatures is the she-beast herself."

My eyes flicker to Demitri, and I frown.

"She is swift, silent, and with her terrible claws and her inescapable jaws, she snaps ships right out of the water, never to be seen again."

The deck around us goes silent as all turn to Demitri.

"What is her name?" Benjamin asks, his voice a whisper, a pallor coming over his tan face.

"We do not speak her name," Demitri scolds. "Least we summon the she-witch."

Beside me, Benjamin looks terrified. I set the rope down and reach out to him.

"It's nothing more than a story made up by superstitious sailors," I assure him. "It's a fantasy."

Benjamin looks relieved, but before he can relax, a voice speaks up.

"My dear, Captain. Are you truly so foolish?"

My eyes lift and meet the gaze of Isabella. She is leaning against the railing, her legs and arms crossed, an amused though subtly serious look on her face.

"I put no stock into fairy tales."

One of her eyebrows quirks as she processes my words. "How naive."

As usual, her words provoke a strong reaction from me. My fists start to curl around the ropes in my hands, and I take a deep breath to calm myself down.

"Mr. Ariti is right though," Isabella says, shifting away from the railing. "It is unwise to speak her name." Her eyes meet mine, and under the bright sun and glittering sea, her gaze is the color of whisky. "It's bad luck to speak of a woman behind her back."

I feel as if she is speaking directly to me, and I frown at her. Surely she knows I've been cursing her name since our paths first crossed. I've not hid a moment of my anger toward her.

"Bella!"

I look up as Captain Thorne shouts out the nickname. I've heard the Captain, Mr. McCarty, and young Alice all refer to the piratess as such, but no one else.

"As you were, gentlemen," Isabella says, nodding her head toward Mr. Ariti. I watch her swagger across the deck and up the stairs to the quarterdeck. She doesn't glance back once as she disappears into the Captain's quarters.