The Jackdaw

Chapter 2: Brace

You jostled your way through the ship's hold, passing crates and barrels, the dim light of oil lamps flickering across the wall. The shoddy beds of the crew held a few sleeping comrades likely just finishing the night watch. Or sleeping off their rum. Both were reasonable suspects.

You moved towards the galley at the bow of the ship. It was a small area lined with a counter and a large wood-burning stove. The cook stood at its center, a middle-aged man with a butcher's knife. He threw a daggered look your way, shouting irritably, "It's not done yet if that's what you're wondering."

"I've been ordered to help you out around here," you say, pulling out a mild smirk and throwing your hands at your side. "Captain's orders. And I'm supposed to bring him back something to eat."

He grumbled something incoherent, slapping the knife down and heading through the ship. You shrugged your shoulders, a brow lifted with amusement. You searched the shelves, finding meat that had been cured and salted. At one point in time it was some kind of fish, that much you could tell. In a large pot on the stove behind you, there was a bone broth bubbling.

You seared the fish lightly, spritzing a little rum on it, and drinking down quite a bit for yourself. You learned to cook years ago when you were younger and desperate to survive on something tastier. Beer and rum can mask any flavor, especially old meat.

You mixed the fish into a wooden bowl with the steaming broth. You took the stew and another bottle of rum with you and headed topside. The crew was singing a lively shanty, something about a woman or a ship. You never could tell the difference when it came to sailors.

Inside, Edward stood at the round table in the room, hunched over one of the various maps. He glanced over his shoulder, the seriousness of his expression melting slowly. He was handsome and charming, that much you couldn't deny. It was enough to make a thief like yourself think twice about stealing from him.

"Cook didn't exactly like it when I told him the news," you humored, setting the bowl and bottle down on the only empty space at the table.

He lifted the bowl in hand and dropped back into a creaky chair to eye the concoction. "What did you manage to make your captain?"

You shrugged, trying not to laugh. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"That's inspiring." He took a large bite, braver than you would have been. He nodded his head in approval. "Takes like rum." He smiled widely, a toothy grin that made him look nearly childish.

You snatched the bottle off of the table, helping yourself to it. Edward didn't need it, not with the rum in his stew. "I took the liberty of adding a little."

"Little," he barked before another laugh.

Spritzing might have been a poor choice of words. Dumped was more the like. You took down another long drag, savoring the warmth and burn.

"Didn't fix some for yourself, I see." He set his bowl down, pushing it towards you. "Have a bit, lass. You need to eat."

You shook the bottle. The little bit that was left swished. "This is all I need."

"That so, lass?" He leaned back in his chair, gaze sweeping across your figure. "A thief and her rum? Is that your story then?"

You weren't sure if it was the rum or the puppy eyes but you found yourself sashaying over to him. You pressed the rum against the muscle of his chest, slipping your knee into the chair, his hand instinctively slipping behind your knee. "My story requires a lot more rum than this, darling." You slid your other knee up, straddling over him, towering against him. The heat of your blush weaved with the burn of alcohol, and you let your mind pulse with both.