Falling For The First Mate

Chapter 3

“Come on precious, don’t be squirmin’.”

Evanora kicked and struggled, lashing out blindly at her three attackers. A thick strip of cloth circled her head, obscuring her view of both location and company. Screaming like her voice box was attatched to a foghorn, she never ceased to fight, determined to make this capture the worst these pirates would ever take part in.

“Shall we just knock ‘er out, Cap’n?” Vulture asked.

“Aye, she’s makin’ such a bloody racket the king’s men’ll hear us!” agreed the female, rolling her eyes in exasperation as Evanora thrust out her fists.

“No, she’ll have to get away! Do ye’ not even realise how much we need ‘er? What if we be dead come sunrise? Do ye’ want Cap’n Silvestre an’ his pack of sea dogs securin’ the only remainin’ copy of this godforsaken map?”

The Captain snarled viciously, his nostrils flaring and his grimy teeth bared. Scars lined his cheeks, red and raw from numerous battles. His physical appearance screamed ‘bloodthirsty,’ although his attempt at intimidation lasted only until you met his eyes. For those sea-salt eyes were swimming in fear, so he was glad that Evanora’s blindfold prevented her from glimpsing his weakness.

“Just get it over with! Kill me!” she shrieked, adrenaline fuelling her struggle.

Vulture gave a twisted chuckle, leaning closer to run a piercing nail along her cheekbone. Droplets of blood bloomed in its wake and he smeared them with his fingertips, lifting them to his lips to taste his victory.

“Aw, listen. The little girly still thinks we’re gonna kill ‘er.”

The Captain pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed it nonchalantly at his first mate, clicking the trigger into place as if preparing to shoot. Many a time he had debated pulling that trigger and freeing himself from his most irritating crew member, yet he refrained from doing so. After all, he needed him for the intricate task they were about to perform and after all, should they run into trouble, he would make sure that he wasn’t the only one left to suffer a torturous death.

“Vulture! Silva! Cut the crap and serve yer purpose or I’ll be shootin’ ye’ both!” he snapped.

Immediately, both crew members snapped to attention. Silva proceeded to unpack the satchel she hung behind her cloak, unveiling jars of an oily ink and a long, pointed needle. Somehow, its jagged tip managed to glint evilly despite the pitch black conditions.

Vulture, on the other hand, rushed back to Evanora and threw her brutally over his shoulder, carrying her struggling form towards a table that could only be seen by the barest flicker of candlelight.

The Captain strode over, noting the way his first mate could not even overcome a fear-ridden female in all her weakness. He snapped his fingers impatiently and Silva scurried to his side. Reaching into her satchel, he removed a pair of handcuffs attached to a chain and expertly locked Evanora’s wrists together, securing her hands above her head to the table on which she lay. Her body convulsed in outrage and terror and he watched her flop like a fish suffocating in the air.

Suffocating with fear as he was.

“Silva, do as she asks.” he ordered, gesturing to the awaiting needle. “Get it over with.”

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Evanora screamed as white-hot pain tore through the skin of her lower back. Silva attacked her from behind with the ink-stained needle as Vulture restrained any movement, his gruesome hands holding her shoulders down. Even though it was hopeless, she strained against the handcuffs until the smooth skin of her wrists broke, tore and bled. Even when all she saw was tinged with red, she refused to cease her rebellion.