Rye Veil: Death and decisive behavior

Tortuga

"Come over here , wench. I'll pay ya~" Rye curled her lip in disgust at the man. She pulled her hood lower over her face, and prayed that her temper would stay hidden. Rye weaved through the multiple bodies in the streets of Tortuga. Eventually, she made it to the bar, where she sat at a corner table and waited. Something told her that she would find something useful tonight.
  Rye Veil was a legend, and her ship, the Bloody Mary, was a myth. Said to be the largest ship ever built, it would kill whole fleets of British vessels in the span of dropping a hat, and the ship was so fast, not even the wind could match pace with it. However, all feared her, and so she rarely revealed herself to others.
   She was taking a risk now, but she hadn't been out for quite a while. A woman plopped an ale in front of her, and walked towards a group of men, tittering and accepting the coins they gave her, no matter how little in value.
    Of all the places I should have stayed, I picked here. The pint came to her lips and she filled her mouth, and let the drink run down her throat slowly. No use to drink. She was always thirsty, always hungry, always dying. I must find the Aztec fold. This was her constant thought for the past eight years. Curse my quick fingers. She had stolen a piece of gold from a pirate right here in this very tavern. Thinking nothing of it at the time, she thought she might be able to buy a loaf of bread. However she soon discovered that she would have no use for food. It turned to ash in her mouth. The drinks would all evaporate in her throat, and any fire could not burn her. She was dead, but she was alive. She was cursed.

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Hours after Rye arrived at the tavern, two men and a lad came in, and sat in the opposing corner. She stood, and moved to a nearby table. She couldn't make out much oftheir conversation, but what she heard made her glad she had come out.
  Bootstrap! Oh god his son. My old friend. She looked at the young man. He was barely 18. He looks just like bootstrap did when he disappeared. He had gone to find a chest of treasure, as always, and never returned. Curse Barbossa. As soon as she was rid of her curse, she would hunt him down. If only she knew what he looked like.
   The two men chugged their drinks, and walked out, towards the docks. Waiting for a few moments, she followed them. The shadows were very favorable to her, and allowed her to blend with them, as if she were pure darkness. One of the men turned around. Her breath caught in her throat. She stayed stock stiff, summing every once if will she had left to not talk. He passed her, headed for the tavern. Thank god.
   Hundreds of mighty vessels floated in the water,swaying in the wind. One ship stood out amongst the rest. The Intercepter. A British vessel. The British are on the island?! I must leave! She panicked. If they found her, they would find out who she was and then- she saw the two men boarding the ship. Ah, a stolen vessel.
Claiming that it calmed her nerves was an understatement. Rye nearly felt herself faint from relief. " Now is not the time to rejoice. I must join them." She said, and she began the slow trek from the street to the deck of the ship.
     The ship was very plain, with no flavor in the design whatsoever. The floorboards were brown, the sides were blue and yellow. It was as if a blind man who knew nothing of ships was allowed to design it. Pitiful work of pitiful people.
    As she moved towards the captains quarters, she began to think what to say. Oh, hello! Sorry to bother you, but I am cursed and you seem to know a friend of mine in the same predicament. Would you mind taking me to a remote cave so I might slit my hand on a case full of coins? No, she would seem to be mad. She would just tell them what they needed to know.
    A floorboard creeped underfoot. She froze. Hopefully no one heard it. She took another step, and a thunderous crack came from the wood below. There were voices, and the thudding of footsteps came towards her. I must hide!