Dead-or-Alive

-Chapter 5.3-

-Chapter 5.3 🌊 Weigh Anchor-

Her bravo stunned the pirates to say the least. The man who'd first spoken against her shut his trap, while the one who'd lost his kin couldn't keep his shut. However, as time had proved and proved again, nothing could be agreed upon by everyone. "Lovely as that all sounds lad, how do you expect us to help anyone when we're nothing but skewered kebabs on Red Jack's sword?"

Someone else in the crew snorted, but Sybil couldn't make out where the sound originated. Everyone was starting to look skeptical. So much for her faux confidence. "More like ground beef. Rumor was, before he disappeared, he started wielding a hammer twice the size of a great sword."

Sybil gulped, but fought on. She could do this, she had to. "You are making Red Jack out to be a dragon, but how is he any scarier than you or me? By imagining him to be this beast, you are giving him more power than he's due. A hammer the size you describe is bound to take its toll, so when he grows weary and weak, we'll knock it out of his hands. What will he do then, besides cower at our feet?"

"You are making this out to be easy. His ship is larger, faster, and stronger than ours," at his words Thatcher experienced de ja vu and the uncanny feeling only grew stronger as the pirate continued, "Say by some blind stroke of luck we stumble across her waters, Dragyn is bound to sink us before we get the chance to board her. For Red Jack's amusement and nothing more, say we board his ship. The crew will have the upper ground and cut us down before you or Cap or anyone reaches Red Jack. In that mess, what hope is there of finding your father?"

She scoffed, "What hope?"

"Aye," numerous men called out, curious of the newcomer's response.

"The hope we all ever have! It is what drove us to join Captain Thatcher's crew. It makes us believe we can achieve the impossible. It is the very same hope that rocks us to sleep at night, singing sweet lullabies in our ears. What are the dreams that follow about? The dreams are about all the scurvy seadogs that surround you returning to a better home. What's more? We will return the same people we left as, not the soiled pirates that stand here now."

The pirate that had been dubious of her, stepped out from the crowd and made his way up the stairs to the helm. He wore a black bandana, covering his greying hair that was most likely the result of the strain of a pirate's life. His white tunic was rolled up past his elbows and his brown trousers matched much of the crew, but the gun slung over his shoulder was certainly a new sight for Sybil. It had a long barrel for greater precision and accuracy. The red marks on his elbows from leaning on the ground or a railing told her he had lots of practice. Somehow that didn't ease her anxiety.

He reached the railing she stood at and didn't move for a few seconds, still mulling his decision over inside his head. Everyone watched him cautiously, wary of his actions. Thatcher had his knees bent the slightest of a degree, ready to lunge if necessary. Luckily, there was no such need.

The pirate held out his hand.

Sybil stared at it, expecting to have been shoved from where she stood onto the deck below. "Come down from there, lad. It would be a shame for you to break your neck after such a pretty speech."

She took the hand and hopped down, the crew chuckling at the mix of horror and surprise etched into her expression. "Ye say yer name be Rowland?"

"Aye."

"Well, Rowland, my name be Sanji," he spoke softly, a welcome change from the judgmental tone he once used.

The Captain took their exchange as cue to end this debacle. "Now that most agree, if you would like to leave, now would be the time to do so."

Several more than what he would've liked shoved their way onto the beach, muttering something that sounded vaguely like 'morals be damned'. Only one of the deserters stayed behind to have a last word. "I am stricken with guilt to hear about yer father lad, but this mission yer sending everyone on is bound to get ye all killed. May Ato overlook your arrogance and carry ye to the Dragons' Resting Place. As for me fellow crew, don't let him take ye all too. First sign things turn south, run, ye hear me? Run."

Quinton toyed with the hilt of his cutlass beside the strangely apathetic Matthias, feeling the same desperate urge to flee as the deserters. He would never, but the feeling was there and it wouldn't go away. Red Jack was one foe he was eternally grateful fell to another crew. Now knowing that his light still burns and Rowland was steering him straight towards the flames, he couldn't help but believe unparalleled damnation was short at hand.

Thatcher was no exception to this fear, but the fear that Red Jack would find the dragons' treasure and the power very few knew it held was a stronger drive. Shaking aside all the qualms the past minutes had ridden him with, he forced a fake grin on his lips. "Yo-ho-ho! Let us weigh anchor for to Tierranth we sail!" he cheered triumphantly, before addressing the crew's barefaced fear, "This sweet trade of ours is podgy with fright, no man sane of mind can deny that, but the plunder that awaits us is worth any heart."

Smiling wryly, Quinton walked up beside the Captain and threw his arm over his shoulders. "What you speak is true. I am certain Barnaby will enjoy our booty for many years to come."

Hands flew to mouths to muffle laughs, but heard they were. "Belay! Off with the lot of you!"

The men scurried away tears brimming their eyes and the wind carried the ship out to sea. Sybil, as usual, was lost. Facing Sanji, she whispered too low for the Captain to hear, "What happened with Barnaby?"

Sanji risked a glance at the Captain and Thatcher was glaring at him. "I wouldn't like to test the waters today Rowland. Maybe some other time."

He disappeared with the others, leaving Sybil in a sour mood. She stormed over to Thatcher ready to throw him overboard. "Why does everyone get to know, but me?"

"You weren't there. You don't get to know."

"Snoggers! I am here now, aren't I?"

"For now."

Pressing her lips shut, she walked away. Revenge wasn't too far in the horizon. After all, the dog only needed to open his quarter's door.

A/N: Loyal pirates, I'm sorry about the late update. Just my luck, I get a week to write and I'm cursed with an ailment of sorts. Seeing as my mother is in the Caribbean, visiting Blackbeard's castle WITHOUT me (a curse all on its own), I'm doing my best to stay buried under blankets and soup in order to get well. 

Best wishes,

Max <3