2 Chapter One

"Oie! Bring the bow 'round!" He rushed out of the cabin the moment he felt them lurch his ship awkward against the bar. He cursed them harshly, yelling up at the crows' nest, "for every lash on the keel will be a lash on yer shrivelled leatherbacks," he roared, squaring the ribbon against his neck, tugging the hair down tight and slicked. "There's an old bar bouy at the end at this one, lads," he groaned as he adjusted his cutlass, his men roaring in hearty approval.

He gave a weak smile, turning to his father's ship, and there he was. . . . The pirate's long hair hung in thick black dreadlocks and gold beads about his haggard thickskinned face, baring the creases that come with age and harsh pleasurable living. He stood aboard his grand ship, gleaming a freshly polished green, tall and proud. Ben could only guess what his father had called him here for this time, the 'Old Salt-in,' as he liked to think of him, always had a card up his crusted sleeve.

"Bring 'er 'round!" he called as the boats were sided. Sonny brought his ship around the other side of his father's ship as his men tied and boarded the ships.

"And Hawkin's will have to climb Jacob's latter," his father crowed, the dirty lace rippling over his fistful of golden-jewelled rings.

"As he well should," he laughed, "Lord knows he needs to roll that Landlumber off the liquor barrel."

"Aye, that be true," his father's rough sandwashed laugh cracked. "Hell 'll freeze over before he outsails a son o' mine." He laughed stiffly as his father pulled him into a harsh hug as he stepped off the plank.

"I was told it was urgent father, why have you called us here?"

"I have many loyal ships," he said, "but I would reward my most loyal with a gift. . . ." he stopped shifting his gaze to some old blankets laid across four boxes. He fell silent as he waited for the other captains to board the ship.

"All hail the Sea King!" Rotten smiles gathered, the crews watching afar in silent curiosity.

"Aye," he answered, giving a rough mocking bow to his fathers' delight.

"My good captains, on one of my last quests I found a map to something quite. . . . well," he stepped closer to the containers, his fingers draped over them in anticipation, his own crew nudging each other behind, grinning. He began lifting the covers, one by one revealing four naked women in four small cages. He looked at them puzzled, women?

"Well, Ginger?" The Sea King stood before them proudly beaming, clasping his hard hand around his shoulder. He was dumbstruck, he couldn't say a thing. "Sirens boy!" he exclaimed, "I caught us each a Siren!" He turned back to the women, each was exquisitely pale, flawless, but Sirens?

"Sirens?"

"My dear boy, if they were to dive back into that ocean, they'd show you their fins," he grinned, a haunting expression flooding through his grey teeth. He turned back to the women, unconvinced, and utterly hoping it to be untrue. What would he do with a bloody bare berth? It would be nothing but trouble on board a ship, Siren or no Siren, a woman alone. However, he could never refuse a gift from his father, everyone knew his nasty temper, and this was not just a gift one could simply pawn off.

"How do you know?" Hawkins fingered his greasy beard, intrigued but far from convinced. The Sea King laughed and took off his sea-worn purple coat and blouse before he walked up to one of the crates and opened it, dragging a woman with long silky red hair up to her feet. She twisted and pulled back with all her weight, but her slight figure was no match for a sea hardened sailor.

"They lose their bite after they dry and lose their tails once their salt kissed asses dry," he howled, slapping her so her skin turned a bright red, the other women hissing at this. "Now they can only sing their little songs when they're in the water at night, they're tied to the moon." He threw a rope up and over a beam before tying it securely around the woman's wrists.

"Really. . . ?" He walked up the others, eyeing them cautiously in their cages, each giving him a defiant angry glare, holding their heads up with a bitter sense of pride.

"Now methinks the men will want to see all of you when you go in," he said, twisting her long hair up to reveal her thick muscular curves, wrapping the wild curled hair in a cloth around her head. He grabbed her at her waist, lifting her over his shoulder so he held her by her legs, her butt up in the air as he paraded her over to the edge. She didn't fight him, not yet, not until she was in the water, ignoring the men jeering and hooting as her chest rippled on his filthy red back. He called two men to hold the end of the rope before throwing her over, with just enough water to reach her chin. The other women were watching anxiously, white-knuckling the bars as the line twitched and spun. The men struggled to hold her as she fought with powerful swift kicks, something dark under the surface.

"Hold her steady boys," his father laughed as two more men ran to their aid, holding her line as she bucked and twitched, glaring up with fire in her eyes.

"Hang her up, I want to see the colour of her fins," Sonny roared, gripping the railside.

They hauled the woman up, screeching and flicking her tail violently, the other women joining her. It was a horrid sound, the unearthly sound scrapped down his spin. The sound made him shiver, it was so hollow, pure horror and rage quaking through her sculpted body. Her black tail stretched out as long as a man' from where her ankles would have been that flickered just as wide, a black fringe like a Lionfish down the sides of her hips. She hissed at the men as they circled around her, writhing and spitting as she spun. He saw men grabbing boards as they circled and her dodged her tail.

"Avast ye scallywags!" he shouted, "who gave ya bilge rats the order to mark another mans dungbie." A hideous laugh rounded the ship as the men backed away from the woman, who in turn turned silent. "Tie the end 'till she's ready to come down," he called, turning to his father.

"Aye," the Sea King sat on the empty cage, "we wouldn't want to damage any one of these captain's precious cargo."

"On second thought," he took one of the old canvases of the ground. "We could wrap her and bring her down."

"That's my boy." He tossed the other end to the closest sailor and flicked the fabric over the scales, holding her still as the other man wrapped it tightly before slowly lowering her down onto the deck. She laid deathly still now, watching him intently.

"Blimey." He knelt down to her tail, slowly reaching out to touch the wet scales, but hesitated. The scales had a blue hue that sparkled spectacularly. He dared his fingers to lurch closer, watching her face for any sign she would snap her fins. His fingers slowly easied down her scales, shivering slightly at his touch, but remaining still. They were so smooth, perfectly aligned down to her slick tail, he'd never seen anything like it, it was beautiful. He took a knife from his boot and slide it carefully between her hands and cut the ropes.

"Well, Ginger's made his choice." A round of laughter cycled.

"Aye," he smiled, standing over her. She was intriguing, but he was still unsure of what to do with her.

"Acker," he said, turning to his second hand, "we'll need to make purchases for our guest. I'll join you for the supplies."

"Aye Cap'n."

* ━━━━ ❈ ━━━━ *

"What do we do with her?" They stood over her, but she remained silent. She looked away, tugging awkwardly at the quilt she was wrapped in.

"Well, I-. . . ." he stammered. "I haven't the slightest," he grunted under his breath. "What was my father thinking?"

"I think we both know that," Acker sneered.

"Aye." He looked to the other women, and couldn't help but pity them. "Aye, that I do. But what do I do with this one?" He turned his attention back to his father who was giving orders to the men loading the crates onto the other ships. "It's a bloody nightmare."

His father crossed the board across from Sunny's ship, making his way towards them. "You picked a fine one Gin, though I was thinking of keeping that one for myself." She quivered slightly, gripping the cloth like death itself. "But then I saw this beauty and knew I was the one to break her in," he grinned, turning his attention to the last Siren, who was now pressing herself against the back of the cage.

"She seems to be the sea herself," he admitted. It made her sick to think what that horrid man planned to do to her, though her own fate didn't seem set in stone either. If she could just get to the water, if she could just get to the water by nightfall, she could call them to the torrents, bind them in their own chains that scarred her sea bed.

"Up woman," she suddenly heard him growl. She stood slowly, as they began to walk to the boards. It was so close, she could taste it. . . . She thrashed the cloth back at the men and made a mad dash for the sea, leaping for the rail when something ripped her out of the air, knocking the breath out of her and throwing her down onto the rough split boards.

"Stay down," he hissed.

"Well, she will keep yer hands full, aye Gin? Give the lass a slice a day and plough anchor to her harbour till beam ends." She laid sprawled on the deck, too scared to move.

Ginger roughly picked her up, slinging her around his shoulders, "Or 'till she capsizes." He pulled her limbs firm as he crossed the board. "This is a gift like none other." He leapt down as his crew untied and pulled back the planks, "a bloody Siren."