A Siren at the Helm

Chapter IV: A Night on the Vengaza

With every passing second that she spent in the cell Amina grew more and more agitated. She could free herself if she wanted to, go right back to her cozy home with the Evans family. For goodness sake she could tare the ship in two, so why didn't she?

There was however, as there is for all things, a reason behind this too. These were pirates. Even after ten years, ten years of hearing how despicable and cruel pirates were, she still had a soft spot for the brutes.

Amina ran her hand through her hair and winced when it brushed over the  spot where the pirates had hit her. There was already a bump. Her eyebrows knitted together. When she got her hands on that... that oaf she would...

Once again she heard footsteps make their way to her cell. Out of the darkness a man appeared. He easily towered over Amina, as she was sure he did over everyone else. He was sturdily built and more muscular than any man she had seen before. This, along with his tattered clothes and the small scares that crisscrossed his body, made for a fearsome sight. Amina was not scared of him though. She had seen many similar to him in her time. Keys klinked in his hand as he locked open the cell door.

"Come on girly. Out ye come," Amina recognized the deep voice. It was the man she had kicked during her kidnapping. He watched her with a sour expression.

For a moment she contemplated giving him a piece of her mind, but quickly decided against it. A flick of his oversized pinky finger could probably give her a concussion. She doubted whether her magic would even help in a fight against him. Instead she glared at him from the comparative safety of her prison.

"Well c'mon, I don't 'ave all night," he said impatiently. Amina stepped forward staring him down all the way.

Once out of the cell, the man grabbed her arm and started dragging her towards a door. In one swift move Amina pulled her arm from his grasp, almost twisting his in the process. "I am perfectly capable of walking on my own. Point me in a direction and I will go, but don't you damn well touch me." She waved an accusing finger in front of his face. He looked down at her with a scowl that would rival a gargoyle's face any time. After a moment of contemplation, he grabbed her wrist and started dragging her in the same direction.

So they went through a maze of corridors and hallways. Amina hadn't realized the size of the ship. Didn't pirates usually use sloops? This had to be at least the size of a frigate.

After a few more twists and turns they reached their destination; the galley. It seemed to be packed with every pirate aboard the ship. Every sailor sat at a long table, with their captain at the head. She was stood at the other end of the table and the gigantic man finally let go of her arm, leaving a red patch where her skin had been squeezed.
"Ah, our guest has arrived," Esteban said. Whether his face pulled into a sneer or a smile, Amina couldn't tell. "Welcome, welcome señiorita. Please make yourself at home." She stood confused. This was not how prisoners were supposed to be treated on a pirate ship. Esteban noticed her uncertainty. "Come now. Do not be shy. Apparently you were not so timid when you sang for the people earlier this evening."

"What do you want?" Amina blurted out. "I have no one who would be willing to pay my ransom and..." her voice trailed off as she remembered another reason pirates would bring a woman aboard their ship. If they even thought such horrible things about her, she would send them on their merry way to Davy Jones's locker.

"Oh, not much," the conceited captain answered. "You know, my men have a very high opinion of your musical skills. And, miss O'Brien, I must say," he leaned forward in his chair, "I am intrigued."
Amina merely raised her eyebrows. If he was going to get his point across, she would make him spell it out. "Apparently your voice is supposed to justify your mistake of being here." Esteban's eyes flicked to the big man who had brought her there. He had gone to sit at the captain's left side. Esteban's eyes then moved to the man on his right. He was slim and wore a bleached, red-brown overcoat. Both glances were enraged, making the giant and overcoat shift uncomfortably in their seats.