Earning My Keep
Life aboard a pirate ship was strange. Though I didn’t exactly have anything to equate it to in either lifetime, I could tell that Rachel ran a loose ship. Literally.
There wasn’t a set schedule as far as I could tell, with what little crew roamed the deck mostly keeping to their own things. The course had been set and the sails were perpetually at full, meaning whoever was navigating the ship didn’t expect any sudden storms.
I mostly just wandered around while I waited for my body to heal. Doc had ordered me to take it easy, but honestly, there wasn’t much I could do. Everything was already taken care of.
I spent the first day doing a whole lot of nothing. My ribs appreciated the rest, even if the rest of me didn’t. After years of constant labor, the sudden influx of free time felt wrong somehow, like I was forgetting something important every time I caught myself just sitting around.
It didn’t help that I didn’t really know anyone on the ship. Rachel was friendly enough, but she was pretty absent all things considered. Doc was professional, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend any more time in that lab than absolutely necessary, and Nera had made her opinion of me crystal clear.
That left Brogy, who I had yet to formally meet. I met him on the third day while I was wandering around, drawn by the sound of hammering metal. I followed it down a narrow corridor until I reached a door that was propped open with a wedge.
I peek in, finding a room lined with weapons of all kinds. They hung or leaned against the wall—swords, axes, pistols, and a few things I couldn’t even name. There was only one man in the room. He was sitting on a stool and hunched over a large hunk of metal and gears that I couldn’t make heads or tails of from my angle.
I knocked on the doorframe, not wanting to startle the man while he was working with what looked like a very heavy hammer. He didn’t seem to hear me over the clanging, so I cleared my throat.
“Hello?”
The hammer stopped mid-swing, and the man turned to look at me over his shoulder. A grin spread over his bearded face as he caught sight of me. “Well who do we have here? You’re the lass that Rachel went and fished out of the sea, aren’t ya?”
“That’s me,” I nodded, glancing around the workshop.
“Let me take a look at you,” Brogy hopped off of his stool, and I blinked as his height didn’t change a single inch. The man was a dwarf, though his powerful frame suggested that he didn’t let that stop him. Though short, Brogy’s bare, tattooed chest rippled with muscle and his arms were nearly the size of my thighs.
He strode over to me, examining me behind soot-stained blue goggles. Hmm... A bit lean, aren’t you? But you carry yourself well enough, I suppose. Can barely tell you’re all skin and bones underneath that coat!”
“Thanks,” I said as he walked around me, inspecting me from every angle.
“Name’s Brogy,” the dwarf introduced himself, apparently satisfied with his inspection. He extended a hand the size of a dinner plate, and I took it. His grip was firm enough that I felt my knuckles grind together, but I didn’t flinch. “As I’m sure Rachel’s already told you, I’m the Armorer and occasional cook aboard this fine vessel. What brings you here?”
“Irana,” I replied, pulling my hand back and flexing my fingers. “And I’m just looking around. What were you working on?”
Brogy’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He spun on his heel and bounded back toward the hunk of metal he’d been hammering on, gesturing for me to follow.
“This,” Brogy announced, resting a hand on the metal contraption with the pride of a father showing off his firstborn, “is Gōwan.”
I peered at the thing, trying to make sense of what I was looking at. It looked like a cannon, in the same way a cutlass looked like a steak knife. Same breed, different class. And it was clear that Gōwan was in one of her own.
“She’s my pride and joy,” Brogy continued, patting the barrel affectionately. “I’ve been working on her for some thirty years or so. My magnum opus.”
I watched as he fiddled with one of the gears, adjusting it slightly before nodding to himself in satisfaction.
“What’ll you do when she’s finished?” I asked.
He chuckled. “I doubt that’ll ever happen. There’s always more to tweak, things to add to her to improve her performance or change how she shakes things up altogether. My work's never done, and that’s why I love it so much.”
He gestured around the workshop, at the weapons lining the walls and the various projects scattered across his workbench. “Out here, you gotta stay on your toes. Every day’s something new. You never know what’s going to come through that door, or what kind of trouble Rachel’s going to get us into next. Gōwan here helps me stay prepared.”
“And you enjoy that?” I asked. “Not knowing what comes next?”
Brogy nodded without hesitation, “‘Course I do. If you know what to prepare for, life becomes too easy. Easy only gets you killed when things eventually get hard. And they always do.”
As I considered his words, he reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a small bundle of rolled tobacco and a match. Tucking the cigarette between his lips, he struck the match against the edge of his workbench and held the flame to the stuck..
“Speaking of company,” he said, letting out a puff of smoke. “Why don’t you take a seat? I always appreciate having someone nearby while I work.”
“I thought most smiths liked to be lone with their projects,” I said. He just laughed.
“I’m not most smiths.”
Since I didn’t have anything better to do, I took his offer and took a load off, settling on top of a couple of crates stacked nearby.
Brogy turned back to his work, cigarette still clutched between his lips. He talked as he tinkered, explaining things he was doing and how they would affect his weapon. His voice filled the workshop, oddly meditative, and I found myself relaxing without even realizing.
As his first cigarette went out, Brogy paused his work, fishing for another. He saw me looking and paused just before lighting up. “Want one?
Surprised by the offer, I took a moment before shrugging. “Sure.”
He quickly pulled out another rcig and lit it for me. I leaned down, letting it fall between my lips and taking a drag.
The nicotine was harsh without any sort of filter, but it settled a spiritual buzz that I didn’t know I had. I coughed lightly on the exhale, but quickly took another drag, relishing the familiarity.
“So, how are you liking the ship so far?”
“So, how are you liking the ship so far?” Brogy asked, rolling his cigarette between his fingers as he took a break from tinkering.
I considered the question for a moment, taking another drag from my own cigarette before answering. “I don’t really have anything to compare it to.”
Brogy let out a booming laugh that seemed far too loud for his small frame. “What, you’ve never been on a boat before?”
“Not a pirate ship,” I clarified, flicking ash onto the floor. “But I helped steal a Marine ship not too long ago. This one’s a bit smaller.”
The dwarf nodded sagely, stubbing out his cigarette on the edge of his workbench. “Aye, she’s small, but don't let that fool you. The Fletcher’s Fury is a ship any pirate would be proud to call their own. She’s fast, nimble, and sturdy as the day is long. Rachel picked her herself, you know. Restored her from practically nothing.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sharp ringing of a bell from above deck. It was followed almost immediately by the sound of heavy boots stomping across the wooden floor and Rachel’s voice calling down from the hatch.
“All hands on deck! We’ve got an enemy vessel approaching!”
Brogy was already moving, snuffing out his cigarette and turning to grab Gōwan. The massive cannon seemed far too large for him to lift, but he hefted it onto his shoulder with the ease of a man picking up his morning paper.
“We’d best get to it,” he said, already heading for the door.
I blinked, stubbing out my own cigarette. “Me?”
Brogy paused at the doorway, turning to look at me with a raised eyebrow. “She said all hands, didn’t she? You may be a guest here, but you’ve got working hands.” He shifted Gōwan on his shoulder. “Besides, it’s probably in your best interest to help defend the ship if you want to get to Kara Town in one piece.”
I stood up from my crate, rolling my shoulders. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. I’ve never really—”
Brogy smacked me on the back hard enough to make me stumble forward a step. “As long as you can man a cannon, you’ll be fine! Now come on, we’re wasting time!”
I steadied myself, throwing a glance at the weapons lining the walls. Swords, axes, pistols, and a few things I couldn’t name were all within arm’s reach. “Can I take one?”
Brogy waved a dismissive hand. “Go at it. Just don’t take anything you can’t handle.”
My eyes roved over the selection, passing over the cutlasses and rapiers that lined the walls. They were too light, too dainty for what I was used to. After four years of swinging a pickaxe, I needed something with a bit more heft to it. Something that could actually do damage when I hit something with it.
My gaze settled on a large, double-headed axe mounted on the wall near the back of the workshop. It was bigger than anything else on display, with a thick wooden shaft and two wide blades that gleamed dully in the lamplight.
“Ah, wait lass, not that---” Brogy started, but I was already reaching for it.
My hand closed around the shaft and I lifted it off the wall. It was heavier than I expected—the kind of heavy that would have given a normal person trouble—but not unmanageable. I gave it a few experimental swings, testing the weight and balance. It wasn’t as nimble as Aldric’s axe had been, but it would do.
I rested it on my shoulder, the familiar feeling of a weapon in my hand settling something inside me. I looked back at Brogy, who was watching me with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” I asked.
The dwarf shook his head, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing, lass. Let’s head above.”
Wind ripped across the deck as Brogy and I poked our heads out of the hatch. The sky was grey and full of clouds, and the masts creaked as the sails were stretched to their limits.
I found Rachel practically hanging off the port side, one hand wrapped around a rope as she angled herself towards the ocean. She glanced over as Brogy and I sidled up to her, grinning widely. “Hi there!”
“What is it?” I asked, looking out over the ocean. My view was interrupted by a cresting wave so I couldn’t see much.
“Pirates,” Rachel giggled, and just then I saw a ship peek over the water. It was large, with black sails trimmed in blue and a ghostly wraith figurehead. I couldn’t see the jolly roger from here, but it was clear this wasn’t a merchant vessel.
“Do you recognize them?” Brogy asked.
A sound cut through the air, like wind slapping against a tarp. I flinched, jerking back as a Nera landed beside me, wrapping her cloak around herself and---wait.
“Are those wings?” I blurted out. Where the woman’s arms had been were a pair of massive brown and white wings. As I watched, they morphed, feathers melding into flesh and tanned skin as Nera strode past me
Nera strode up to Rachel, completely ignoring me and my question. “Forty on deck. Maybe a few more below but I doubt it. All of their cannons are topside. I don’t recognize their flag.”
“Ah, so they’re not important then,” Rachel reached down, pulling her flask from her belt and popping it open with a thumb. The smell of something acrid washed through the air. “Only forty? That’s no fun.”
“Like I said, more might be hiding down below but I doubt it,” Nera replied. Rachel pouted, adjusting her hat.
“I hope they’re hoarders then. Probably not much in the way of a bounty on a crew that teeny.”
As Rachel pouted, I took a step back, leaning in towards Brogy as I eyed Nera. “When was someone gonna tell me we’ve got a Devil Fruit user on board.”
Brogy’s expression was blank. “A what now?”
I blinked before realization dawned on me. Right, this was the East Blue. You’d be lucky to hear of someone having a Devil Fruit, and even then most people wouldn’t know what it was. They probably thought Nera was some sort of weird bird woman
Before I could decide whether or not to explain, Rachel clambered up onto the railing of her ship, looking back at us with her hands on her hips and a grin that somehow looked wider than normal.
“Alright, here’s the deal!” she called out, her voice carrying over the wind and waves. “We’ve got ourselves a crew of wee babes who think they’re tough enough to take on the Firebrand Pirates! So we’re gonna teach them a lesson they won’t soon forget!”
She unsheathed her cutlass with her free hand, and I took my first good look at the blade. It was strange, tempered evenly and definitely sharp but mottled like someone had sprayed it down with paint.
As I watched, Rachel brought her flask to her lips and took a long swig until her cheeks were slightly bloated. Instead of swallowing though, she spat the mouthful directly onto the blade of her sword. The liquid coated the steel, somehow sinking into the blade itself, and then she struck the flat of the blade against the heel of her boot.
The entire thing ignited with a violent whoosh, flames erupting along the length of the cutlass and licking at the air. Heat washed over me even from several feet away, and I had to squint against the sudden brightness.
Rachel raised her flaming cutlass high in the air, the fire making her red hair glow like a halo around her head. “They want a fight, let’s give ’em one! And rob ’em for all they’re worth while we’re at it!”
“Aye aye!” Brogy and Nera responded in unison. Rachel turned her bright eyes to me, warm brown pupils reflecting flame.
“Well?” She asked. “Ya don’t have to fight if ya don’t want to, but it’d be greatly appreciated!”
All things considered, I only had to think about it for a moment. This woman had saved my life and gave me a place in her ship. I couldn’t just leave them out to dry. Besides, my ass was on the line here too.
I met her gaze, and gave her a nod. Her grin grew even wider. “Atta girl! Let’s give ’em hell!”
The battle didn’t start immedietetly. The ships were too far away for boarding, and the sea was rough enough to make conventional cannons useless. Instead, we slowly drifted closer, our ship heading it’s current course, and theirs moving to intercept.
Brogy hauled Gōwan up to the foredeck, positioning himself near the bow with the massive cannon resting on his shoulder. Nera took to the skies again, her wings carrying her up to the crow’s nest where she perched, clutching an honest-to-god bow and arrow.
Rachel stood at the helm, one hand on her hip, the other holding her cutlass aloft like a flaming beacon to light the way. She seemed excited by the imminent action despite having a crew small enough that they could probably all fit in the same coffin together. I hoped it was confidence and not arrogance, though it didn't really matter in the end. I'd thrown my lot in with them all the same.
I just sort of stood around, waiting for orders. As we waited, I wondered where Doc was. He was the ship’s doctor, but I doubted he lasted any amount of time on a crew this small without some kind of combat skills.
Unfortunately, he failed to make his appearance, and the enemy ship was closing fast. As it drew nearer, I could make out more details. The black sails were tattered and worn, patched in several places with mismatched fabric. The jolly roger flew proudly: a skull with a pair of crossed cutlasses behind it and what looked like a teardrop beneath its hollow eye.
I could see the faces of the other crew. They were stereotypical pirates, scarred and weathered by the sea, with more than a few missing teeth and crooked noses among them.
Fodder, I decided instantly. These guys were the textbook definition of background characters. They’d fit in right with the bounty hunters at Whiskey Peak.
As I thought that, man stepped up to the railing of the other ship, tall and broad-shadowed with a shaved head and a nasty scar running from his temple to his jaw. He wore a long coat similar to Rachel’s, though not nearly as well.
“Rachel Wall!” he bellowed across the gap between the ships, his voice carrying easily over the waves. “The infamous Firebrand herself! I heard you’d be charting this course, but I can’t believe my luck in catching up to you, haha! Tell me, is it true that you sail with only four people?”
“Four and a guest!” Rachel shouted back, her grin never wavering. “But don’t worry, we’re more than enough to handle the likes of you!”
The man threw his head back and laughed. “You might want to get your eyes checked, girl! My crew outnumbers yours ten to one!”
“Quality over quantity, mate!” Rachel called back, tapping her cutlass against the railing. “Now are we gonna chat all day, or are you gonna give us a reason to cross that gap?”
The man’s laughter died, replaced by a cold sneer. “Gladly.”
He turned to his crew, raising his sword high. “Board them! Kill everyone but the captain! She’s worth more alive!”
A roar of cheers answered his command and as the first round of hooks latched onto the railing of the Fletcher’s Fury, I clenched my axe and took a deep breath, before moving to meet the oncoming pack of pirates with my axe raised high.