The Lost Brother

"Of all the things that drive men to sea, the most common disaster, I've come to learn, is women."

The salty wind ripped through her tangled, black hair with surprising ferocity. She'd long ago given up trying to tame it and look decent. Besides, no one but her crew ever saw her, so there was no worries in how she appeared to others. Her crew respected her as their captain and feared her even more, which is all a captain of ruthless and bloodthirsty pirates could ask for.
"Land ho!" a voice from high above crowed, alerting the crew members and turning all the greasy heads to the strip of green floating on the horizon that they were crawling towards with excruciating slowness. On the shore, she knew what was to be expected. Jumping over the railing of the deck, she approached her first mate. He wasn't the strongest on the ship, or the quickest. But he was one of the smarter ones, and was who she considered to be the physical form of logic.
"I'm going," she said in a hushed tone, and he nodded, his eyes meeting hers with an indescribable expression that was only apparent for a moment before it evaporated. The pair approached one of the wooden lifeboats, and she climbed in with almost effortless ease. Her first mate beckoned over another shipmate, and together they lowered her into the water. As soon as the bottom touched the water, her oars were dipping into the water, pushing her forward towards her destination.
The sun was dangling low in the sky when she reached the shore. She'd opted out of going up to the docks, for fear of being seen and speaking a name that hadn't been spoken aloud in many years. Tying up the small rowboat, she struck out with purposeful steps, hoping the darkening skies would be enough to cover for her while she was on her mission. It was peculiar walking on solid land before, but her mind was too focused on other things to notice the difference. Her black boots sunk through the soft sand that was damp from the air heavy with salt. Her eyes were trained on the little golden lights that danced along the horizon, and her lips were pinched tightly together. As if her body language didn't give enough away about her attitude, her mind was running bad scenario after bad scenario through it.
"Please, let him be here," she muttered under her breath. Even in the low tones with which she was speaking, someone could detect the dark, gravelly tone that made her voice so attractive and appealing to listen to. She marched into the darkness of the jungle, her hands clenched tightly into fists and her eyes trained on the small, dancing light on the horizon.

The town glowed like a large firefly a few feet ahead of the woman. Little flickering candles blinked at her through the night, offering warmth and goods. But she was on a mission, and had no time for pillaging. Pushing out of the treeline, she slows her pace to walk slowly towards the seaside village. As she grows nearer, the quiet sounds of the night grew distant and the louder, raucous noises from the pub intensified. Entering the town, she almost turned around from how deafening the yells and cries for more rum were. Clenching her teeth, she continued on, but not before pulling the wide brim of her hat lower on her head, in hopes to disguise her more feminine facial features. She already had worn baggier clothes than normal to hide the slender curves of her ship and weather worn body. Outside of the pub, the noise could've disguised a cannonball being shot from the cannon. Straightening her shoulders and lowering her face towards the ground, she pushed her way inside. She shouldn't have been nervous, though. There was no way her presence was noticed by more than a few. Everyone was too busy drowning their troubles and losses in the endless streams of rum provided by scantily clad women. One of the few who noticed her entrance, though, was a bartender. His dark eyes immediately clung to her upon entry, and didn't stop until she sat in front of him. His dark hair was pulled back into a small ponytail, but a few strands had gotten loose and hung freely in front of his eyes. His gaze felt penetrating, but she refused to lift her head. "A glass of rum, please," she murmured softly, barely raising her voice to be heard among the clamor. Nonetheless, he hear her, and after pouring one, he slid it across the bar to her, still looking at her intensely.
"You're not from around here." She noticed it was more of a statement than a question, and didn't reply. Her demeanor made it obvious that she wasn't, and she knew it. "What're you in town for?" Now that was a question. She didn't answer at first, but his stare was burning a hole in her forehead, and she answered reluctantly.
"I heard some news about a person who might be here." She didn't want to reveal more, but he came around the side of the bar to sit beside her.
"And who is this person who might be here?"
She shrugged, and took a drink of the rum, and reveled in the sharp taste that bit at her tongue and throat as she swallowed the thick liquid.
"A lover, perhaps?" he asked, his voice tinkling with the slightest hint at laughter. She turned towards him slightly, finally meeting his dark eyes with her own.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she smirked, and took another drink.
"I would. That's why I'm asking." The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, and he reached for a bottle of rum to refill her glass, and poured one for himself as well.
"No, it's not a lover," she returned her gaze to the knife scarred bar in front of her, running her finger along some of the gruesome words etched into it. After his silence, she felt obligated to add, "I'm looking for my brother."
Her eyes weren't watching, but she could sense the quick change in his attitude, almost a shocked rigidness. But it was gone after a few seconds, and attitude returned to the easiness it had been before.
"Ah. He a pirate?" he asked. She shrugged again, and gulped down a larger drink of the rum, letting it sit in her mouth and the sharpness poke at her cheeks and tongue before swallowing it.
"Are you a pirate?" he pushed. She didn't respond, not shrugging or anything, and he nodded slightly. "I see." He got up from his stool, and moved to leave. "If you'll excuse me," he nodded his head, and slightly bowed, before stepping behind her. He paused, and leaned down. "I'm sorry, Amelia."
Her eyes widened, and she froze. No one knew of her first name. She hardly remembered it herself sometimes. Whipping around to confront this man, her eyes met the door swinging, as if waving good-bye.
Bolting off of the chair, she threw herself back into the pulsing fray of disgusting humans before her, pushing her way to the door. After shoving several drunken men looking for a "good time" off of her, and threatening to cut off some tongues and other bodily appendages to others, she made it to the door. Thrusting her way outside, she looked around frantically. But if she knew him, she knew where he'd be going. Taking off, her feet pounded the path that she had previously taken so cautiously. Now she was less wary of her surroundings. She just wanted to talk to him.
But as she reached the harbor, the boat had already left. She saw him at the helm, a shadowy figure. She knew he was looking back for her. A sinking feeling of dread dug itself in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to find him again. But she'd keep trying. She had to. She continued to watch the dark horizon long after he had disappeared from human sight.

"He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in the darkness and distance."