Hooked

2.

"Wake up, ye fish suckin' wench!" A pirate screamed through Ash's cabin door.

The door to her very, very small cabin.

She groaned and hid her head under her stiff pillow.

The pirate didn't miss a beat as he yelled again, "Wake up, I said!!"

"I am awake, you bloody knob gobbler!"

She knew that always hit her father's crew where it hurts. Dick heads.

A roar of rage followed by more yelling: "We're plundering another ship today we've spotted on the horizon, and when I say we're plundering, I mean everyone but you."

He cackled, followed by his footsteps retreating from her door.

"Moron."

Ash rolled out of bed and stretched her arms as much as she could with such a low ceiling. Then she narrowed her eyes to see past the stains on the small porthole and to the horizon. Indeed, there was a ship laying there. And a big one by the looks of it.

She groaned as she pulled on her patched up trousers. We'll be headed to Wanderer's Bay and walk to the town not far from there pretty soon, she thought to herself.

Then she buttoned her white- and dirty- billowy, long sleeved shirt. "And I'll finally be able to get away from this  stupid crew for awhile."

With this new happy thought, Ash smiled as she slid on her brown boots. She ran an old brush through her hazel hair and tied it up in a loose ponytail.

She heard seagulls outside, surfing the sea. Only more proof that they weren't too far from land now. Her smile grew a smidgen bigger. She loved the sea.

All was pretty peaceful as she made her way down the narrow hallway of the bottom of the ship and then up the stairs. But when she opened the door and stepped onto the Red Star's deck, chaos met her. The first and second mate screamed orders at the rest of the crew. Barrels of gun powder were rolled out. Ropes were being prepared. Sails were bring checked. All in an unorderly manner. It took them three times as long as it should. Typical.

Ash had never said anything to help; it was hilarious to see, and, after all, it wasn't her place to give orders.

Her eyes met the cook's, who had apparently been preparing breakfast and was now exiting the kitchen. He was untying his apron and held an expression of utter contempt- upset that he had begun breakfast for nothing.

Ash offered him a pitying smile and he smiled weakly back. If there was anyone on the God forsaken ship that she liked, it was him. He found the crew almost as annoying as she did.

Her eyes squinted against the sun as she looked out at the calm waves. The ship had grown quite closer now.

"What the hell are ya doin'?!" Barkley yelled in my ear. "Do something for once!"

She slowly wiped his spit off her cheek and smiled at him sweetly. "And what would you have me do, sir?"

"HAND OUT THE WEAPONS!!"

"Well, alright."

She slowly sauntered to the barrel of swords and whatever else was in there.

"HURRY UP!"

She looked over her shoulder at him and flashed another smile. "Well if you're so eager, why don't you get them yourself?"

He growled and pushed past her, muttering things that would have had even Blackbeard rolling in his grave.

Ash's eyes scanned the ship for her father and found him.

"How many more days until we reach Wanderer's Bay?" She asked him.

His red mustache bristled as he blew an exasperated breath. "Now's not the time to be asking."

She stared at him for minute before walking away. "Never mind, then."

The ships were veering closer now and our crew had their ropes fully prepared for jumping on the enemy's ship, guns strapped to their waists and swords on their back.

And then five minutes later, they all swung onto the other's ship with roars of triumph, as if they'd already stolen everything.

Well, fine, then. She certainly didn't care. She certainly didn't want to join them rather than be stuck on this boat by herself.

She sighed, accepted for the hundredth time that this was just how it was, and went below deck to gather the mop and bucket. She wasn't hungry, she decided, so she'd just scrub the deck instead.

But when she emerged from below deck, two figures jumped down from their ship to hers. They both approached, the young man in the lead.

In a panick, Ash dropped the bucket and took the mop in both hands, handle facing the oncoming man.

He came to a stop in front her and clicked his tongue. "You going to stab me with a mop handle, love?" He spoke with a Scottish accent.

She decided to play it innocent and dumb. "I-I- well I can't exactly do anything else."

She slowly edged her way toward the barrel of weapons, which still had a couple of swords inside.

He must have only thought she was edging away from him. Good.

"True," he said.

"W-what do you want?" She kept the mop pointed at him.

"I want a lot of things," he sighed. It seemed quite genuine. "I want a new hat...this one's getting a bit old, you see. I want a boyfriend as well; those are always handy. Oooh, I know. I could really use a good apple crisp at the moment. And.."

Ash wasn't listening anymore to his prattling. She was right next to the barrel now and just as her arm reached out for the sword, another grabbed hers, pinning it to the wooden wall behind her. Their other hand -hook, actually- pressed against her throat.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you."

Their jade green eyes pierced hers.
"You have red streaks in your hair. Are you Redbeard's daughter?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. "I...no, I don't know what you're talking about."

"She is. Pierre."

The last thing Ash saw was the hilt of Pierre's sword and the other's cold glare.