Adeena Cole: At World's End

Chapter Eighteen: Sparrow

It was raining.

I turned my face up to the sky, in the crow's nest. I don't know why exactly I had chose to climb the ratlines, up to the wind and the frigid air, but it was certainly refreshing.

There was a maelstrom, forming up ahead. I caught sight of it as Gibbs yelled, and my stomach dropped. The Flying Dutchman was also approaching, off to the West.

I thought of Jack. He was on that ghost ship, presumably in the brig, all thanks to my temper.

I scampered down the ratlines, breathing heavily. I was nervous, a feeling I was unfamiliar with. Confidence seemed to be a given trait for one of my origins.

The rain abruptly intensified, and now it was dumping buckets upon buckets of freezing droplets onto us. Calypso was angry, I figured. She'd been imprisoned for about a century, after all.

At the hands of my breed, really, I recalled with disgust. Bloody pirates.

"Captain Barboussa!" Elizabeth screamed into the wind. I met her and Will about mid deck, panting and tying my hair back frantically. I could tell it would be terribly knotted later. I frankly didn't care.

I grabbed the long ponytail I had gathered, swinging it around so I could see it. It was past my hips, by now.

Without regret, I unsheathed my sword and sliced about a foot and a half off. I felt free. The hair was carried away by the wind.

"We need you at the helm!" Elizabeth continued, looking fierce in the wind.

Barboussa, who stood at the railing as if the sea wasn't tossing the Pearl around like a rag doll, turned slightly. He eyed Cotton, who was currently struggling to man the ship's wheel. "Aye, that be true." He said with a sneer, yanking Cotton back and practically throwing him aside. "Brace up the yards, ye cockeyed deck apes!" He bellowed, spinning the helm, looking like a madman. The three of us -- William, Elizabeth, and I -- grinned at one another. "Dyin' is a day worth livin' for!"

I screamed an agreement in Siren, then whirled around and headed to the deck. I joined the men at the cannons, shouting insults and encouragements in multiple languages. They answered with enthusiasm, screaming over the roar of the sea and the screams of thunder.

"On our stern and gaining!" William called; I barely heard it. He was up with Barboussa, ducking out of the way as the first shot from the Dutchman's front cannons, the annoying ones that protruded from the front of the mossy ship.

Barboussa's eyes were wild. It was frightening. "More speed! Haul yer wind and hold yer water!"

Was Jack as capable with the Pearl as Barboussa? I wondered, stroking the railing of the black ship. I could feel her as if she was alive beneath my feet, and almost heard her protests toward those who crusaded against freedom.

I glanced toward the helm. I had the feeling Jack would be just as competent if not more with his Black Pearl.

"She'll overbear us!" I shrieked in the general direction of the others, referring to the Dutchman as I came back to the present.

"Nay!" Hector called back, fighting the helm as it begged to be released. He appeared to be winning. "Farther in! We'll cut across to faster waters!"

I realized suddenly that we were in the gigantic whirlpool called a maelstrom. I wasn't afraid of water, I told myself. I was a bloody half Siren, for crying out loud. Barboussa was going to cut us across, through the eye of the storm, so we could broadside the bastards.