Defy the Odds

It was only inevitable I enter this XD Even with a pretty darn cruddy entry. This is the first time I've done a picture prompt, so if there are any experts out there, please tell me if I'm doing this right. I'm aware someone's already used this Title, and i'm sorry, but I really can't think of a better title. The other one I had in mind gave away the story XD Again, very sorreh! D:
***CONTENT WARNING: I couldn't make this in anyway child-friendly. We are talking about 18th century ship-bound, cut-throats that almost never shower here, so here's what this has: Violence, brutal behaviour and abhorrent language. And maybe some racial prejudices, gender prejudices, etc. I haven't decided yet XD
***EDIT: Alright, changed the title. Is everyone happy?
***FINAL EDIT: My word count - 1998 words XD


3. -

The Cove was a small, cave-like structure that was more spacious than it looked. It was dark by the time the pirates returned to their hideout. Matt, having been dragged half-way along the journey, looked up at the sight with lazy amazement. There must have been at least a hundred men scattering the land, seated on boxes or on the sand, around fires – laughing and drinking heartily. The water on the side docked a large ship.

As he passed, they raised their flasks to him, and laughed, “To prisoners!” they took simultaneous sips, “And may the Good-Lady-Capt’n bless ye!”

He didn’t say anything as they taunted him.


Matt noticed a figure appeared into the horde. A tall mixed-raced woman stood. She wore a long blue tunic, a belt wrapped around her waist. Her hands were bloodied, but she held a big crate and slammed it down. The Cove rang silent and all heads turned to her.

She paused theatrically, before saying, “Ye’ll be making legend. Ol’e Blackbeard put burning wire in his hat – and ye’ll be pissin’ a furnace through yer fuckin’ so-called pricks. I mean it, lads. I didn’t spend a fortune on fruit so ye could get scurvy. The meat is skinned an’ gutted – but it ain’t salted. It’s gonna stay that way ‘til this crate is picked clean. I find this half-full tomorra, and the next sanction’ll be on yer rum!”

The effect was immediate, the pirates rushed to the crate. The woman walked free of their pandemonium and up to them, “This the one?” she asked.


They nodded, unbinding him, and the woman gestured for Matt to follow her. Matt looked at the teeth-like structures forming on the top and bottom of the caverns, as she led him. To his surprise, she led him to a set of doors. She pushed one open and entered. Into the cave, the pirates had carved little rooms. This one had a desk and several crates and chests were set in its corners. The woman went and sat behind her desk, putting a foot on the edge and rocking back.

“Name?” she asked.

“Matt, mi-Lady,” he replied.

“Don’t call me that. The lads poke fun at me that way. Name’s Tess. So,” she paused and sat up, “which unfortunate bastard’s ship did ye come off?”

“Beached, ma’am.”

“Aye… What was yer capt’n’s name? Which fleet were ye with? British, I suppose? What were ye? An oarsman? A privateer?”


“Uh… The capt’n wasn’t a gracious man. He didn’t like me much.”

Tess eyed him suspiciously, “All the more reason t’remember ‘im.”
“I don’t.”

She narrowed her eyes, “What was yer ship called?”


Matt slammed into her knocking her off of the chair.

But Tess had braced herself. She rolled him over, straddling him, and smacked her fist into his jaw. His blood sprayed across the floor, his head cracking side-ways sharply.

“What are ye?” she asked, “A fuckin’ maroon the boys stumbled on?”

He growled, grabbing her hands, and head-butted her nose. Tess gasped and tears leaked out of her eyes. Matt threw her onto the floor and she skittered away just in time as he brought down the chair on her. The wood splintered on impact and Matt hefted the broken leg towards her. Tess kicked him once in the stomach – doubling him over – then in the face with the other leg. He fell to the ground, but with a firm grip on the chair-leg. She scrambled up and made for the door, but Matt grabbed her leg and dragged her down, her face hitting the ground with a crunch. Rolling her over, he dragged himself on top of her and spat in her face.


“Listen t’me, Tess,” he said, chair-leg still in hand. Blood from his nose streamed into his mouth, “Listen t’me, an’ I might jus’ let ye live. Ye so much as whisper and ye’ll be in for it. As for this,” he waved the leg in front of her, “You don’t want t’know where I’ll be puttin’ it! Yes, I was marooned. An’ curse me, if I don’t have Hornigold’s head for it! But, ye’ll get me on that ship o’ yers. Ye’ll show me supplies and ye’ll show me a longboat. Then I’m gonna leave, an’ you with me.”

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