A Siren at the Helm

Chapter XII: The revelation of a Traitor

He had not changed much since she had last seen him. His hair was a little grayer and Amina was convinced that he was a little shorter. He also had less teeth than before, but otherwise he the same. He had the same icy, gray eyes that stared at her with as much malice and hate as they had all those years ago.

In a few seconds all the fear that had been nibbling at her stomach walls, turned into thundering rage. "You slimy, hateful, stinking, bilge rat of a..."
"Is that any way to speak to yer captain?" Breakwell interrupted her.
"You never deserved the title." Amina said as she spat at his feet.
"And that mutinous dog did?"
"Flaganan was ten times the man you'd ever be."
Breakwell let out a bellowing laugh. "Twenty years and ye still can't say his name right."
Amina gritted her teeth. She knew that was not how his name was pronounced, but that is what she called him. It bared no ill meaning towards Flanagan. It was rather a pet name she had bestowed upon him during one of their first conversations.

She decided to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"How are you not dead?" The last time Amina had seen Breakwell he was tied to a tree not far from the fort, his own wanted poster nailed above his head. It was an unconventional way to rid oneself of a bad captain, but Flaganan had decided on it. Breakwell's crimes against the crown were inexcusable and everyone had been sure that he would be condemned to the noose. He would be hanged like a common thief. Except he clearly hadn't suffered that fate. He was standing a free man, while Amina was behind bars.

"Let's just say, that the navy was willing ta trade me life for some information. They even let me stay on after," he grinned. How Amina wished to be outside the cell. She would smack that idiotic smile right off his face.
"And what information was that pray tell?"
"Ye don't suppose remember a certain attack from the navy, not long after that Flanagan boy took me ship." Breakwell said nonchalantly.
Amina gasped. "That was your fault?!" She remembered it all to well.

Since well before the mutiny aboard The Bounty, they had operated from a small island near Madagascar. Not long after the incident, three British ships had attempted to raid the island and capture every pirate on it. Much of the crew had been taken prisoner and many had been killed. Flaganan, Tempest and what was left of the ship's manning, had escaped Brits in the Bounty. They had sailed through a small gap in the reefs that surrounded the island. Two of the British ships had not seen this gap and ran aground on the reef. The debris of fallen ships had blocked the exit from the bay, and so the third ship could not chase after them.

"I thought ye might recognize it," Breakwell said smugly. "It is a shame ye were not one of the captured ones," his face pulled into mocking regret.
"You should be the one in this cell," Amina gestured to the iron bars in front of her.
"And yet I'm not," he retorted. "Ye know," Breakwell leaned against the prison bars, "all this bloody nonsense could have been avoided if I had just left yer dinghy in the water that day."
"And yet you didn't," Amina countered.

Breakwell's face wanted to contract with anger at Amina using his words. She could see it, but he controlled himself. "No, no Tempest. That might 'ave worked before, but it ain't workin' today." He sighed. "Ye helped that rat take everythin', me ship, me crew, even me last loot. So, after yer trial, I'll be watchin' ye hang from the gallows ye meant for me with a smile on me face. And I then might go to the tavern and 'ave meself a rum?" Breakwell mused. "Maybe a beer? Bah, I'll have lots a time to choose later." He leaned closer to Amina and once again his sickening breath fanned over her. She hoped her eyes were as cold and dead as his. "After all ye cost me, revenge me darlin', is so sweet." He turned on his heel and began to walk away.

Amina wanted to spite him. She wanted him to worry, or for his skin to crawl with anger. Anything other than this twisted happiness. "Very well," she called out. "You can hang me, if you can catch me." She giggled as a plan came to mind. "I swear that before twelve o'clock tomorrow, every pirate in this prison will be a free man... or woman of course." She could feel the concentrated rage dissipate into something she appreciated much more, confidence.