Let Cake Eat Them

“I can appreciate that side of the telling, but it was not near so epic from the junk.” The cook settled on a barrel, her long legs extended. “And it was far easier prey that you make her out to be. This boat was all but scuttled.”

Gennie’s soured expression turned to curiosity. “You never told me how you managed to survive on this scuttled ship.” 

“You want me to follow that epic with my own version of this barge?” The woman gave a snort. “It’s much darker than your bright victory. Though there’s at least as much blood.”

“I confess a curiosity after that statement.” Maggie’s eyes glinted, yet she felt a chill at the cook’s expression. “I too never heard how long the ship lingered in the shoals.” 

The cook often balked at the notion of telling her side of the story. “Now may not be the best time for a tale such as this. That crew was starving. We are low on supplies. We are low on ammunition as we were then. Then the ship was leaking and run aground. Now we are having trouble finding welcome port.” 

“I saved Ecstasy then, and I am sure we will be fine now.” Gennie shrugged off the cook’s concerns.

“Arrogance as always. At least your telling explained where that came from..” The cook paused. “Though maybe your attack did change our fate. It changed mine at the least.”

“The ingots aboard were valuable surely a real rescue party would have been on the way?” Maggie questioned, her mind always on a glittering prize. 

The silver was the primary reason she had stayed on when Gennie gathered her from the sea. 

“We weren’t going to be rescued in either case. The ship had gone rogue. It was the only reason I was aboard. And I wasn’t just the cook there.”

At this all three were rapt in the cook’s telling. 

Marrick was the first to speak. “Well even I could tell that. Your cooking is pretty great, but I couldn’t figure why any crew kept a woman like you aboard. You’re useless in every other respect to piracy.”

The women turned a dark gaze on the first mate and he clammed instantly.

“You are all very right. I should tell my side of the story. Maybe that will earn me a bit more fear and respect.” A sharpness overtook the cook’s features. 

***

The ship ran aground in a storm. It’s a common enough concern. No excitement there, but the area in which it occurred was so far off the supply routes Daniella knew right off the crew was in trouble. Which meant she was in even bigger trouble. 

It had been at her urging that they take the uncharted route. She wanted a shortcut to her intended destination. The sooner she made it back to her home port the more victorious her venture would seem. 

She had chartered the ship, in a fashion, but she was not so bold as to think the crew was all hers. Once the storm cleared and the damage assessed Daniella shifted her role from paying passenger to cook. 

That was the first time she drew human blood. 

The man went down easy enough, Daniella only for a moment thought she would be sick from the smell of the blood. She reminded herself it was no different than bleeding a boar, something she had done on a hunt or two with her father and uncles. The image of the men leering and laughing at the young girl as they hoped the blood would turn her from joining them again steeled her to the core. 

Daniella’s thoughts were brought to the present bloodletting when one of the young cabin boys dropped a stack of bowls at the entrance to the galley. The din of shattering china carried Daniella’s gaze to level with the boy. It may have been the boy’s heart she heard break along with the dishware. 

“Dangao?” His voice shook in a way she had never heard before even as he called her by the nickname he and the other crew had given her.

The language barrier, as well as her sweet appearance gave them enough reason to call her cake in their own tongue. 

“Méiguānxì.” She lowered the blade to approach the boy. “It’s going to be fine.” 

She had no intention of hurting this boy. He was young, healthy, and importantly, loyal to her. 

“We have to eat. We need to survive until the ship is repaired.” Her explanation was slow as she repeated it in both languages.

The boy remained still, his eyes locked with hers even as the body lay behind her.

“Bāng wǒ.” She held a hand out to him.

His eyes were wide as realization settled. But he understood, she was right about their situation. The two of them sorted the crew into categories with the sobriety of organizing supplies and goods; loyal, able bodied, and dinner.

The loyal would take part in the hunting and preparation in the kitchens. Able bodied would be left to repairs and duties aboard ship, kept busy and in the dark about where their meals were coming from. Those who might balk at their plans or otherwise cause trouble, well, that was the third category. 

The last thing Dangao wanted was trouble. 

There were over two hundred crew onboard when they set sail. The storm had taken at least fifty to the sea. In a week there were a dozen or so lost to disease and superstitious fears. A fortnight took more, but those who worked hard and asked no questions remained strong enough to keep the ship from sinking. By the time Despair set upon them the offense of the galleon out matched them two to one. When the first volley came, Dangao retreated to the kitchens. The loyalist category shifted quickly. Crew who attempted entry created a barricade of bodies. A meat shield of gore. When Despair rocked the junk with it’s impact, Dangao waited. When screams took the place of splintering wood, Dangao gripped the largest knife in the galley. When the small shadow darkened the passage to the kitchens, Dangao stood her ground. 

***

“And that was the first time Cakeblade raised a knife to me.” Gennie laughed.

“And the first time anyone who invaded my kitchen left alive.” The cook sighed at the interruption to her retelling. “But don’t push your luck, captain.”