A Siren at the Helm

Chapter XVII: Awful Luck

Esteban groaned as the loud voices from above deck reached his ears, driving away the snippets of a dream that was at its end. Turning over on his other side, he grabbed the pillow next to his own and buried his head beneath it. He was not ready to wake up yet. Even from below a down pillow, he could still hear the raised voices. He lazily opened one frowning eye and stared at the ceiling with disdain. He had handed the wheel over to Bloom no more than a few hours ago, and already the world seemed determined to wake him.

He tried hiding himself under the blanket. Perhaps it would act as a barrier from the sound. That did not help either. Now severely irritated, he pulled the blanket from his face. What was going on up there?

Something thudded on the deck above. Esteban sat up sharply as a distinctly female yell pierced the air. He sprinted from bed. Donning trousers (or trying at least, it was difficult mid run) he didn't bother with a shirt as he grabbed a pistol and rushed out the door.

*

She awakened in the crows nest as the first few rays of sun gently pulled her from slumber. Somewhere during the night she must have fallen asleep. She rolled her head trying to loosen the knots in her neck, probably so from sleeping against the mast.

After gaining back movement in her body, she stood up and leaned over the crows nest's banister. The wind lifted her hair from her back and she could feel it tugging at her shirt. The salty air was fresh in her lungs and the sea spray bespeckled her cheeks.

Tempest sighed contentedly. Tempest, for that was who she was at the moment. "And why can't I be? I have a choice in the matter don't I?" Her words from the previous night echoed through her head.
For this short while she could put the world aside and be Tempest once more. She knew very well that she could shift her legs into a tail and swim home, but she did not want to. It was as plain and simple as that. For years she had dreamt of being on a ship, and now that she finally was, she was not going to shorten her time aboard it. At least not this time.

A growing spec on the horizon captured Tempest's attention. She squinted, her gaze averting from the sunrise. Upon realizing what it was, she shouted to whoever was above deck. "Land ho! Dead ahead."

Not a moment later Bloom's raucous voice was bellowing out orders. Tempest leaned dangerously far over the edge with a crease between her brows. Where was Esteban? Probably in bed, she realized. Poor thing. She supposed that, just like herself, he had gotten tired.

Far below Mad Mich and Fish were scurrying about, trying to carry out Bloom's commands. Being so few however, they looked like they were struggling to accomplish their tasks fast enough.

Tempest hauled herself up onto the railing of the crows nest and swung her feet over the banister. She looked down towards the deck. The drop was dizzying. Carefully, she eased into the rigging that wobbled slightly with her weight and the wind now picking up in their favour. She took hold of one of the loose ropes and tugged on it roughly. Seemed sturdy enough.

She looked around to make sure no one was looking, though even if they were, she still would have done it anyway. Tempest thought to herself that she didn't care whether they got heart palpitations or not, before wildly throwing herself into thin air. The rope in her hands pulled taut as it twisted itself around the mast, sending her in a curved swoop through the air. Her hair blew out behind her like a banner fluttering in the wind and air forced itself into her lungs in double time. For a split second Tempest closed her eyes to savor the sensation.

She landed on the deck and came to a skidding halt, gazing at the wood below her feet in pleasant surprise. It had been ten years since she had last done that. In hindsight it was a wonder she had not broken her neck trying. Tempest did need some practice though, it had been a long while since she had last worked with the rigging of a ship. She tied the rope back where it belonged.