Port Royal Beckons

Black-Eye and the crew row toward Port Royal, eager to spend their bloody gold.

The Devil’s Mercy groaned as she cut west, her hold heavy with the spoils of the Santa Aurelia. The reef was long behind them now, and the promise of taverns, women, and roaring fires pulled the crew forward like a siren’s call.

Black-Eye Blackburn stood at the prow, boots slick with spray, watching gulls wheel above. For the first time since the mutiny, the crew’s laughter carried across the deck, though it was the laughter of men already drunk on dreams of gold.

Below, sailors gathered in knots, whispering about how much they’d spend and where. One boasted he’d buy an estate in Jamaica. Another swore he’d drown himself in rum until the world forgot his name.

Scarlett Redgrave sat beneath the quarterdeck lantern, her scarlet coat draped over one shoulder. She caught Black-Eye’s gaze and raised a brow. “Keep them from killing each other before we dock, Blackburn. Nothing burns hotter than coin in a pirate’s pocket.”

Later that night, as they rowed toward Port Royal, the crew’s mood soured. The tide fought them, the oars creaked, and sweat dripped from every brow.

“This is taking forever,” one man muttered, his voice echoing across the water.

Black-Eye shot him a look sharp enough to cut. “Forever’s shorter than you think, if you lose your tongue.”

That earned silence, save for the splash of oars.

By dawn, the harbor loomed, ships bobbing, gulls crying, and the scent of roasted fish and spiced coffee drifting from the town.

The men cheered, pounding the sides of the boat. Scarlett leaned close to Black-Eye, her voice a whisper.

“Gold buys loyalty only for a night,” she said. “After that, it’s fear...or blood.”

Black-Eye nodded, his hand brushing the hilt at his belt. He was ready for both.

Word Count: 294
Prompt: Write a story that includes the line: “This is taking forever.”
Written for: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Previous Entry: "Muttered Mutiny"