The cabin shook and rattled as a wave of titanic proportions slammed into the side of the ship, causing Jack to tumble out of his cot and onto the damp wooden floor below. It was a rough night; it was as if the ocean was like a living creature trying to tear the boat asunder. The ship creaked and groaned and moaned and complained, but the crew still sailed on—through the pitch-black of night—towards the horizon. Jack felt far too tense to fall back asleep, so he lay there instead, listening to the raging battle going on outside.
It was just his first week as a cabin boy and he was already starting to feel homesick; the promise of a pirate's life of adventure and riches had not quite lived up to the hype so far. He could hear the crew on the deck above as they fought tooth and nail against the storm—he could hear them cursing and yelling, and he knew he should be up there, too. But he couldn't. He was still on probation, still too new to be trusted with anything serious—it was a rule for a reason after all. The Pirate's Creed was taken to heart on these seas; no matter how silly the rules may have seemed, they had to be followed to a tee.
Deep inside, he knew he had to find a way to help. His crew was fighting a losing battle against the elements, and regardless, what weight would the Creed hold if Jack was buried beneath the waves—never to be heard from again? As he stood up and poked his head out into the hall, he saw the corridor illuminated by a dim orange glow coming from inside his Captain's quarters.
"Captain?" Jack mumbled as he gently pushed the doors to the cabin open. "Captain! Are you in here?"
There was no reply—not that he expected one; the wind and rain were deafening. He looked around; the room was a mess, parchment and glass scattered all over the floor, books knocked off the shelves and furniture overturned. Jack spotted the source of the light—a candle sitting on top of the Captain's desk next to an empty bottle of rum. There was a shadow behind the blinds in the middle of the room; as the flame flickered, it was as if the shadow was dancing along, like some kind of strange marionette. "C-Captain?" Jack murmured once more. His heart ached with anxiety; he knew that just being in here was breaking the rules, but he also knew he had to do something to help.
"Jack?" a voice coming from behind the blinds called to him. "Is that you? What are ye doing in me quarters?"
Jack froze, he was sure that it was his Captain, but the voice was softer than he had remembered. "I-I was looking for you, sir. I think that I could be useful up above, helping out the crew!"
"The crew's fine, lad! We've battled with storms far worse than this, laddie!" the Captain replied. "Ye should be getting a good night's rest!" Jack could hear the sound of rustling cloth from behind the shades. "Go on, now! Off t'bed with ye, and hurry!"
He knew it wasn't wise to disobey, and that he was lucky he was getting off this easily, but Jack wasn't ready to take 'nay' for an answer. "But Captain—" he mumbled once again, poking his head behind the shades. Jack could see the Captain now, or rather what he thought was his Captain—the candlelight was flickering and wavering like the sails on his ship, making it hard to see a thing.
"Jack!" the figure yelled, "Get out of here, lad! Ye can't be seein' me like this!"
It wasn't his Captain, it was a woman! A real woman, with messy red hair and breasts bound up tightly against her chest. He didn't want to believe, but she wore a patch covering her right eye, and a wooden peg for a leg—just like his real Captain...
"W-who are you?" Jack stammered, his heart was racing as he stood before the doppelganger. "What's going on? Who are you, lady?"
"Quit yer yammerin', boy, who do ye think I am?" the woman yelled. "I'm yer Captain, and I ain't no lady! I'm a woman o' the sea, and I wouldn't have it any other way!" Jack didn't know what to say; the Captain was a woman this entire time? It was against the rules for women to be crewmates, let alone captains!
"But what about the Cree—" Jack started to ask before being cut off by a harsh laugh.
"Don't talk t'me about rules, boy!" the woman shouted, grabbing Jack by the shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. "I know ye got a secret of yer own too! Ye may have fooled the men above, but I can tell by yer gait! Seventeen! Who do ye think ye're foolin', boy?"
Jack turned white, it was as if he had just seen a ghost. He thought he had passed for someone older than he really was—being quite tall for his age—but she was right, he was merely fourteen, far too young to serve on this ship.
"If ye're such an expert on the Creed, tell me, what does it say 'bout a wee lad like you sailing the high seas?" The Captain had a crazy look in her eye; she was obviously piss drunk—her breath stunk of stale booze, "I'll tell ye what it says! If either one of us get caught, we're both gonna hang like the dogs we are!"
The Captain dragged him out from behind the shades and whispered into his ear. "Now it sounds as if we both have our secrets; secrets that could get us killed. Do ye want to see me hangin' from the gallows, lad?"
Jack's throat was dry as a desert. "No, sir—I mean ma'am," he mumbled, "I don't want to see you hang..."
"Then it sounds like we have a deal here! I don't tell a soul on this accursed ship about yer secret, and ye keep yer mouth shut about mine." Jack could only nod his head in agreement—she was leaning uncomfortably close to him now. "Now, off t'bed with ye, we'll be needin' yer help in the morn', after all!"
"Yes, ma'am..." Jack sighed. She was right anyways; he was going to get caught if he stuck around any longer. "Goodnight, Captain."
"One last thing, Jacky boy..." he heard the Captain growl behind him. The Captain's words were slurred; Jack could tell she wasn't in the best of shape; she was clearly ready to pass out at any second. He didn't like seeing her like this, but he turned to face her anyways. She stood there, swaying from side to side; her dark red coat was hanging open and her breasts were sagging slightly under the tape wrapped around her chest. Her one good eye was bloodshot as she looked him over. "I been drinkin' like a fish tonight, will ye help me out of these damned breeches?" The rope holding up her pants was tied tight—far too tight for her in this drunken state. "Be careful with me bad leg, though—I don't want it gettin' all tangled up."
Jack was redder than the sunrise as he stood there; it was like his gut was filled with gunpowder