Maggie Pye, thief turned navigator, stood at the fore of a proud Grecian xebec. Curiosity and fate might not wed for most, but in Maggie’s case the pair coupled like rabbits. Their union led to fortune and gain. Maggie knew one other with similar luck. She wagered they would meet again soon.

“Miss Pye.” Maggie lowered her spyglass at her name.  

“Aye, captain.” She addressed the man.  

The Greek stood not much taller than she, but his presence gave an air of enormity. His years apparent in his grey-streaked beard, he hid a bald head under an amber scarf of silk. Maggie was fond of the man’s style. If she could grow fond of a man she would for this captain as employer and ally. It did not change her need to make use of his xebec.  

“I have come to trust your judgment though your time as navigator has been brief. I come to you on recent developments. You have managed to shave days from every jaunt. And you have turned a three months journey into one. In turn this has increased our profits. Yet here you have us in unfriendly waters. I am sure you have heard of the recent plague of pirates here.” 

Maggie nodded, her face stoic.  

“I should say, one pirate in particular. You are a woman who has seen much, so I know you understand, but this pirate should evoke some emotion.”  

Maggie cocked her head as she gauged the captain’s expression. 

When Maggie said nothing the captain continued. “This devil ship is a strange one. She is under the command of one the crew have heard called a sea witch. And she has a bloody dark desire for merchant vessels. There have been disturbing stories of her ability to cripple her prey from incredible distances.” The man scowled. “She never fires a cannon shot.”  

“It is nonsense, captain.” Though Maggie’s smile was one of thrill rather than bemusement. “Tall tales and rumor are a pirate’s most powerful weapons. There are always survivors of these attacks to tell the tale, are there not?”  

The captain gave a curt nod. “That is true. Though many are slaughtered. More are set to limp to the nearest port. Blessed in fact. She leaves not a chart behind, yet, the ships find a way.”  

Maggie’s eyes widened at the similarity in her own games she would play when employed on less than reputable vessels. “I know this trick. There was another who used it often near the coasts of the new world.” 

“Could be then this sea witch has crossed the lines to older seas.” The captain continued. “It does not sound sensible to say a ship so ravaged is blessed, but any ship and crew that survives this monster at all is surely as any could be.”  

Maggie’s mind set to processing the story. There was truth between the lines.  

“To the point of my revealing this news to you.” The captain cleared his throat and set a finger to his chin. “Our current heading. It puts us in direct line with the last sighting of this demon. I trust you to find an equally efficient route that will not take us into her jaws.”  

“Of course captain.” Maggie beamed. “I am honored by your trust in my abilities.”  

“Very good then.” The captain gave a short bow and turned  away. 

Maggie watched the man descend the staircase to the main deck. 

She turned again to the ocean when she could no longer contain her pride. Raising her spyglass a puckish grin spread her lips. “Have faith in my abilities and the gods that guide me.”  

“Captain.” Gennie remained unaccustomed to the title.  

Gazing at the tiny xebec in the distance though, she acknowledged the  sailor beside her with a mumbled, “Aye.”  

“Langshe baie.” Gennie knew few words spoken by the crew, especially ones related to the weapons aboard.  

None of the crew that had been stranded on the ship spoke a word of French. While De Xavier had taught her a fair amount of Spanish, her travels had provided workable vocabulary in English, European, and Mediterranean tongues, the junk’s crew were as foreign as the ship itself to these waters. To Gennie’s ears the language sounded more like madness at first, though she was fast catching on to more commanding words.  

The crew had been more than happy to accept their new captain, after a fair amount of persuasion by the crew of Despair. Their former captain had a more pitiful sense of direction than Gennie and gotten the vessel hung up on a reef that even less vigilant ships knew to avoid it. Supplies depleted, morale non-existent, and damage and body count made all the higher by Despair, accepting Gennie was more than a fair exchange.  

“Just rock this one a little.” Gennie gave the order in french, english, and chinese. “I am certain there is something valuable on her.”  

The sailor hurried to relay the order. 

Gennie’s instinct gave her a measure of pause about this merchant xebec so far from her common waters. Still, she was eager to see the power her Ecstasy could offer. Gennie worked to maintain a controlled pace as she made her way to the prow of her ship. 

The first time she had ordered the dragons fired she had run like a child to watch. The display never bored her. 

She listened intently to the unmistakable primary explosion rippling the water below. Hissing wildly, the langshe, as she understood to mean wave snake, burst from below the decks. It was never the projectile itself Gennie saw. It was intensely too fast for even a keen eye to witness. The wake however left a deep white-walled scar through the ocean as it cut through to it’s target.  

Gennie flipped the spyglass to her eye to follow the langshe’s path to its prey.  

Maggie too near the fore-rails of the xebec, admiring the green-sailed  ship just beyond the reach of the xebec’s cannons. The sparkling monster appeared in the water catching her eye as all that glitters. A moment later the  explosion rocked the merchant ship.  

Sea spray, fire, and debris burst from the port of the xebec. It was not a direct hit, to be sure, but as a warning shot it left Maggie ill to think what damage could be done with proper aim.  

Gennie failed to contain her glee when the distant target leapt from the water as the wave created by the langshe’s second and final eruptive burst rocketed against the ocean. 

She spun from the  scene only a moment to bellow to her crew. “To running! Before our catch has chance to consider the sting of that bite.” 

Her lips formed a wicked triangle. “Hoist a proper introduction!”  

As commanded, Ecstasy burst to life, sailors bustling to ropes, handing out weapons, and rolling forth cannons that might yet be used. Gennie took her eyes from their imminent capture to raise her eyes up the center and tallest of the junk’s five masts. 

Running the rope to the highest point above the violent green of the battened sails, a black drape caught the wind. 

Maggie followed the shadow of rippling darkness as it ran the center mast and caught the wind. Snapping with the breeze, and momentum of the ship’s advance, the design flashed against the cloudless sky.  

The skull motif favored by pirates was prominently flanked on either side by a trio of swords below this djinn-like skull, a goblet. The design shone the same burning green as the sails.   

“La fee verte.” Maggie recalled the other drink her one time partner favored. “No.” Her mind worked as she watched the ship approach with supernatural speed. “Absinthian Skullerfly.” 

Maggie took pride in her naming of the device and prepared to meet the pirate who sailed beneath it.  

Ecstasy overtook the fleeing xebec with the ease of a hare racing a tortoise. The assailing ship dragged along the side of her catch. Planks slammed between the vessels with practiced efficiency.  

Maggie lined alongside the rest of the merchant crew to fight for their lives and the cargo that meant their livelihood. Her readiness was as feigned as some, though the reasons differed. Maggie knew more than a few of the sailors aboard the xebec who would shift alliances to save their own skin.  

Gennie checked her appearance in one of the many unusual little  mirrors that adorned the junk. She had gotten used to the twists and braids from the harem girls and thought the look rather frightening for its unusual quality. The noise of coins, beads, and bells gave notice to her entrance when she dropped to the decks of the captured vessel. 

“Bonjour mes frères de mer.” She always began first in French. “Je suis Blackstrap, Captain of Ecstasy.”  

Maggie approved of the juxtaposition created by the small pirate. Only a spark of the once innocent, yet cunning, French girl remained.  

Gennie bowed as she took in the scene created by her cannibalistic crew. The devastating little demons enjoyed their work. It disturbed her only the first time. Now it retained a source of  awe. They never killed more than half the defending crew, but the style and efficiency dispelled any thoughts that they would not enjoy killing more.  

Without severe alteration to her path, she gracefully stepped over decapitated and dismembered bodies, avoiding deeper pools of blood and the occasional thick smear of brain or coil of entrail.  

Maggie was shaken by the severity of the attack. She hid away below decks to gather and pocket what she could of supplies. She had not expected  to find such a level of slaughter, when she emerged.  

“So, you are the sea witch so much talk has circulated about?” The xebec captain held pride in his posture.

Gennie had seen the false pretense many times before. They all died with much less dignity.  

“A witch. Is that what they call me here?” She scanned the crew. “Well then, maybe it should be that I not ask any here to join my blasphemous crew. Rather, should I cast a spell to shift your loyalties? Or better still, turn the lot into gulls and fish?”  

She waited for her words to settle upon her crew as well as that of the xebec. “You will join the sea in any case.” Her tone shook the weaker members of the fallen ship.  

“Then to the sea with us, witch.” The captain leveled.  

Gennie slid face to face with the man. Her height did not bother in the moments after a successful capture. Only when she was alone in her quarters while the crew congratulated in their own language and no one celebrated with her, did Gennie have moments of uncertainty in considering her situation, sex, and stature.  

“Not a man of my crew will reduce himself to be slave to a pirate or a woman.” The man continued.  

Gennie damned the Greek’s pride. 

“Aye.” A woman’s voice piped in. “Not a man, this may be true, but perhaps a woman.”  

Gennie and xebec captain both turned to the voice. 

The junk crew shoved the woman through. A broad hat hid her face but not the gold and amber necklace around her pretty throat.  

“Pye?” Gennie breathed the name with a smile growing on her lips.  

She could not contain her joy at the sight of her former friend. Maggie removed her hat and dipped a well-practiced curtsy to a level reserved for deference to royalty.  

“Captain Blackstrap.” It was the first time she said the name aloud in many years, and ever with the title before it, but it rolled off her tongue as beautifully as she hoped. “I am eager to be at your service as navigator, should you have need.” A wicked grin danced across her features. “And more eager to replace one you may have at the moment.”  

Gennie gave in to emotion and embraced the woman. “Mademoiselle Maggie Pye, you have found your home!”  

The women held a long moment, but Maggie broke with a level gaze that bespoke keeping up appearances.  

Gennie returned her attention to crew and the xebec captain.  

The glittering look Maggie recalled from their first meeting took hold of Gennie’s features.  

Gennie knew she had to redeem herself after such girlish behavior. “We have the only useful crew from this vessel.” 

She released her crew with a nod. “The rest can join the sea as their captain ordered. Not as fishes but in them. I beg forgiveness, captain. I am no witch to transformations.” 

Blackstrap, if I may. “In finding my old friend and bringing her to me in my time of most need, I wish to scratch the captain’s back as he has mine.”  

Her grin broadened as she gathered her meaning. With a nod Maggie embraced the old greek. From her hip she drew a blade behind the xebec captain and plunged it deep into the man’s back.  

Gennie put an arm out to Maggie as the junk crew resurged their slaughter. Thankful that the blade did not slice the delicate fabric of his scarf, Maggie pulled the silk from his bald head, and shook it out.  

Removing her hat and setting it gingerly on the dead man’s  terror-frozen face, she said, “Hold this a moment, please, sir.”  

Gennie watched as Maggie tied the silk and secured the knot. Maggie bent, retrieved her hat. Glancing at the captain’s hat that lay beside the body, she picked it up as well. 

She adjusted for just the right look with her own hat and returned to Gennie’s side. She set the black brimmed cavalier on her friend. She was fortunate it was a size too large, else the twisted braids would not have fit.  

“A captain should dress the part, pretty.” Maggie looked Gennie up and down.  

“Are you to become my haberdasher and tailor as well then,  Mademoiselle Pye?” Gennie raised her brow at the woman as the pair made their way to the junk.  

“Aye, pretty, navigation is my destiny and gods’ chosen path, but I do dabble in other skills.” Maggie tugged at Gennie’s braids. “And you, pretty, will put many of those skills to the test.”  

Gennie pulled the braid from Maggie’s hand, a rueful look upon her face. “This? Just something I do between voyages.”  

“There is always a good tale to drink with you.” 

“I have trusted few and remain indebted to your gods of fortune that the Mediterranean called you home.” Gennie laughed. 

“New opportunities put me in a fine place to hear of a strange ship run by a rum guzzling female captain. It was a quest of curiosity to find the truth to stories that this pirate woman could take entire fleets to the depths with a devastating weapon.” Maggie waved to the air.

“I am in debt to your xebec captain for bringing you to me.” Gennie drank again. “The dancers are loyal for their rescue, but I count on few and understand little of this crew. I need an ally in case of  mutiny. Especially with that mad cook aboard.”  

“There will be no mutiny, but we are heading deeper into the Asian seas.” Maggie laid out the charts as the pair settled into the cabin below the deck of Ecstasy.  

Gennie gaped with curiosity and concern.  

“You really do need my help.” Maggie teased. “You have made such a name for this sea monster that no port will allow you near.”  

Gennie could not deny the woman’s words. She had been proud the first time entire ports emptied or opened fire at the sight of her Ecstasy. Now, though the ship was known and ports fortified as soon as they saw the sails.

“Into the Asian sea, or past, and into ports where Ecstasy does not stand out so uniquely we will have more luck.” Maggie assured.  

“Fine and well, but in home waters those that might turn against us may feel emboldened.”  

Maggie knew the truth of this scenario, but it was a better risk than starving.