A Nautical Account of Discombobulating Events, Involving Pirates

[binx]

Long ago, in 1594, when the Renaissance was in its full swing, there was a mighty ruler both wise and gentle. She was a visionary, an artist, a lover of music and literature. She was both fair and harsh, ruling her land with an iron, yet just fist. She was the idyllic sovereign of a country that had faced one too many disappointments and hardships. But she was also ruthless, cunning, and crafty. Queen Elizabeth I was one of a kind and the picture for all rulers to come of England. In a world where men were the only rulers to be found across the world, where women were viewed as weak and unfit for leadership, she took what advantages she had to rise above the rest and bring her country peace. Upon gaining power, she broke England's alliance with the Spanish wisely, realizing that the Spanish King would soon seek to dominate the land now owned by a woman.

Shrewdly, the fair queen planned her means of attack upon the Spanish Armada. She knew that if her navy were to outright fire upon them, the superior Spanish navy would be righteous in their declaration of war, a war her meager men could not win. So what could be done? Bribing another country to do the deed herself would be much too pricey and may very well end in the same result.

It was then that the queen saw another alternative. There was an option that was much cheaper and impossible to trace and prove.

Pirates.

Turning to the very men of sea she once condemned, she paid them to fire upon ships who dared to fly the Spanish flag. Taking the pay gladly, they agreed to do her bidding.

Yet as satisfying as it was for ambassadors of Spain to come to her court to ask her in exasperated tones to cease hiring pirates to fight them, it wasn't quite enough for Elizabeth. She pondered and thought on what could finally appease her.

After years of dealings with the rough and unpredictable seamen, she finally heard rumors that caught her interest. On an island uncharted, there was a secret, underground location. In this location, there was said to be unimaginable riches from centuries past, all of the Spanish royal family's dearest treasures they could not seem to part with. With a cruel and witty mind, she sent summons about the world to the most notorious pirates across the seven seas. Beseeching their audience, she offered them a share in the loot. If they were to trespass upon the guarded island and find that treasure for her, returning it all in full, she would split it evenly between them all.

This was the opportunity of a lifetime, one she knew no true pirate would resist. And so, meeting with them on the first of the year, she gave them their maps and coordinates and the money and men to get them there.

Now, the legend begins--the one that few have heard of and fewer still can remember...


She took a long, deep breath of the tangy sea air.

"Well, Milton, it seems we've made it, my friend," she said, the odd accent rolling off her tongue.

"So it would seem, Captain," replied the ever-proper Nicholas Milton, her First Mate.

The wind blew long and light, lifting her wheaten locks. Her wavy hair flashed and shined about her shoulders and to the middle of her back in the mid-morning sunlight. Her pale, delicate hand rested upon her hip which stuck out prominently as she had her weight shifted to one side. The wind picked up again, blowing her billowy, white men's blouse, the plunging neckline somehow not quite so revealing as one might think, but revealing enough for that day and age to get a man's imagination working. A pale smirk stretched across her sarcastic and witty features, her green eyes sparkling with some hidden, inside joke that the world seemed not to understand. Her head was lifted high, her chin and petite nose in the air as she regarded the new crew coolly. Her scarlet skirt, making a bell shape to her hips, fluttered at her calves, hidden by the black boots she wore upon her feet. Golden bangles clattered about her wrists, her large golden hoops tinkling likewise.

B'Ellana Barachi felt some odd form of disdain for the ship. It was much too English for her tastes, preferring the disorder and familiarity of her own piece of floating wood back in Brooms, Australia. Sighing, she flicked the fingers of her free hand forward, indicating Milton should follow her. Making her way to the helm, she leaned upon the wheel, gazing at the sparkling azure before her. What a mission, and by a queen, no less. Well, it wasn't completely out of the ordinary. Pirates' attacks weren't always just by their whim. Too risky. They needed some form of protection now and again.

"I guess it's up to us, Milton," she told him, "It doesn't seem as if these blokes really know what they're doing. No one else is nearly crazy enough to pull this off."

"Of course, Captain," he agreed obediently.

"They are SO damned lucky to have us," she sighed again in a form of exaggerated exasperation, expressing that she was SO put upon.
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James Faust stepped loudly upon the deck, his black boots making quite a racket upon the wood with its loud and obnoxious clunking. He stood erect and proud, a stoic and haughty expression alight upon his features. Cold, storm-grey eyes swept the ship critically, already making his own complaints in his mind. His strong, powerful arms were folded in their black captain's jacket sleeves, the front of which was unbuttoned to reveal his white blouse, the plunging neckline revealing an equally strong and fit chest. Skin that refused to tan adorned him and his hardened and stiff features. Black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making visible his proud, aristocratic face. His back was tall and straight, unafraid and unyielding, like himself.

"It's no Good Doctor, but with any luck, we'll have it back in our possession soon enough," he said in his young, clear, yet angrily gruff voice. It was a quiet voice, generally, yet always strangely audible and sounded constantly furious. It wasn't hard to envision him yelling at the top of his voice at his crew and instilling fear in any man around him.

"Dun worreh, Cap'n'," his Jamaican First Mate replied easily, "Da Good Doctah be ours in no time."

James nodded. "You're right, Darius. Patience is key."

Ignoring the refreshing breeze, he turned to the Captain's quarters to sit before the maps and plot...

[Beccafico]

Sliding the charts back inside the drawer, captain Moraghan turned the key and rose from her desk, then peered with a hint of disdain towards the doorway situated on the other side of the room. With shoulders straight and head held high, she popped the key into the inside pocket of her long black coat and promptly crossed from her side of the Captain's cabin, stepping over the chalk drawn line to Barachi's side and strode meaningfully out through the door.

Her pale brown eyes squinted in the bright light of the sun as she made her way up on deck and adjusted her wide-rimmed black hat to shade them, it's iridescent peacock feathers shimmering in the sun as she did so.

The ships' wheel and Barachi's turned back in her sights, Monaghan stood firmly on the deck, arms crossed in front of her and cleared her throat loudly to announce her presence "I hope we're headed on course, Barachi. T'wouldn't do if we were the last to arrive" she gave a sharp nod towards the wheel and narrowed her eyes "And I believe 'tis my turn to take the wheel."

[binx]

B'Ellana turned to the new voice in question. She took the new face in, wondering at the attire. She knew there would be other pirates, sure, but another who thought she could be captain? Oh no no, this simply would not do.

Sighing heavily as if she were so put upon, she turned back to the sparkling sea.

"Turns are for children, madam, and I was never quite good at sharing," she said, "Milton, do debrief the woman on our course, as I'm sure she'll find we are right on track."

Milton was instantly at her side, though he had previously been nowhere in site and as he opened his mouth to speak, he closed, a look of disdain crossing his features as a shadow fell across himself and the woman.

"And how do you suppose we're on course?" came the dark and icy voice of James Faust from behind. "We don't even know where this island is."

B'Ellana turned in annoyance once more to view the next new face. Oh, but that one wasn't new at all! Oh, Faust, that lovable bastard. She gave the cocky grin that was her trademark.

"When one has world-wide connections, you would be surprised how easy it is to find any place, especially if it's as infamous as this island," she replied. "We head to Spain first. I have a cousin there who would slip us any information he has... for the right price."

James snorted.

"Or make up a story for the right price," he shot at her as he turned to the busy port they were quickly losing, "Forgive me if I happen to doubt the reliability of YOUR connections..."

B'Ellana laughed.

"James, one must learn to have a little faith in people," she replied, knowing the man would never learn that lesson, refusing even on pain of death.

"Right," he mocked, "Because your so-called family connections proved so useful in helping me regain what's mine, didn't they?"

B'Ellana shrugged.

"We can't all be saints," she offered and that was that.