Solange was a diligent student. The captain was a patient man as was his navigator. With their aid, Solange learned the skill and tools required to be a meager navigator. It was a position aboard ship which required little labor and more time hidden below decks.  

She rarely saw Marrick more than a few moments of each voyage, and not at all if they were docked. She continued some lessons with Jacob, a close friend of the first mate, though the man was a mediocre fighter, and not nearly the joy to befriend. Acutely aware of Marrick’s avoidance though Solange’s interest in fighting waned. She remained in the cabin, poring over maps and books, her visions of the future blurred with the sudden change in Marrick’s mood.  

“’Hoy.” 

Solange looked from the map she puzzled, to see Marrick standing in the doorway. She frowned and dropped her eyes to the desk.  

“May I assist you?” She offered in curt reply.  

“Your English is better.” Marrick noted as he entered the room. “I’ve been listening to you relay headings to the navigator and captain. “Didn’t think you could even read English.”  

Solange glared before turning to the bookshelves. “Is there something you require?”  

“I’m ignoring the order to ignore you.” Marrick closed the space between them.  

Solange refused to look up as she returned to the maps.  

“Hey,” Marrick slapped a hand on the map, blocking it from Solange’s view. “I’m trying to pour some feelin’s out here.”  

“And I care not for your feelings.” Solange opened an oversized atlas and dropped it flat on the man’s splayed fingers. 

Marrick glowered. “Damn it, woman!” he hissed and rescued his hand. He shook out his fingers. “I owe you one for that.”  

“Now that you are no longer around me, you cannot fight me either.” Solange shrugged.  

Marrick frowned. He brought a finger level with Solange’s eyes. “Listen here, I didn’t have choice in that.”  

Solange crossed her arms. 

“I am here now.” Marrick’s accusing finger turned to an open hand. “Did you miss me?”  

“Non.” Solange continued with her tasks.  

“What the? Come on, Sol. You don’t mean that. Look at me.”  

Solange tilted her head. She might always be tested by Marrick’s  sword, but her wit was sharper by far. She could wait and make him suffer.  

“Come on now, don’t be mad. You’re not really mad.” Marrick crossed the room. “You can’t stay mad at me, ever.”  

“I can and I will.” Solange backed.  

“Well there’s only one thing for me to do then.” Marrick lunged, and before Solange had a chance to counter, she was poised on one of the spinning nautilus tables, room spinning. She beat her fists at Marrick with every spin, and squealed in protest as Marrick laughed.  

“Tu me déposeres, monsieur! Tout de suite!” Solange commanded slipping into her native tongue. 

“Ah ah! In English, little fox. You’ve been doin’ so well.'' Marrick teased.  

“Get me down!” Solange kicked.  

At the order Marrick swept her off the table and flipped the girl to her feet. He was grinning wildly as Solange stumbled about the room, arms seeking something to  steady her dizzied state.  

“Je te déteste." She hissed.  

  “In English, please.” He gasped between hiccups of laughter.  

“I do hate you!” Solange stomped her foot and nearly fell off balance again.  

Marrick roared with laughter. 

“Oh come on, poppet,” Marrick knelt, almost at Solange’s height. 

He held her arms to steady her. “You love me.”  

“I do not.” But her anger subsided as Marrick held her shoulders.

The last of her dizzy spells ebbed as he steadied her. 

His eyes glittered as he gauged if Solange might fall, or strike at him. 

Solange knocked his arms away. “Why are you here now, if you are under orders?” 

“Someone had to come down for the new charts. Come on. You know me. I can con anyone; just takes time an’ plannin’.”  

“Why do I allow you to behave so foolishly?”  

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.” 

Solange gathered the charts. Marrick’s eyes were on her as she double checked her charts. He all but followed her around the cabin.  

Solange’s scowl faded to a weak smile. 

“You’ve kept busy without me?” 

“I have.” She dumped her supplies into a folio.  

“Tell me all about it. Tonight.” He bent, surprising Solange with a sudden, brief kiss on her cheek. 

“I do not like my new teacher.” Solange said as Marrick stepped to the doorway.  

Marrick paused in the hallway.“You’re not supposed to like him. You’re supposed to hit him with all you’ve got.”  

“I liked you.” Solange remarked.  

“That’s why you always lost. You held back. And I’m just that good.”  

“Captain was wrong to part us.” Solange stepped passed into the hallway in front of the first mate. 

“And, I knew you hated Jacob. Hit ‘im good for me, aye, poppet.” He mussed her neatly ribbon-bound hair.  

A smirk played across her lips though she knew he couldn’t see it from behind her. “But I will be picturing you.”  

Solange brushed ahead with her armload of charts. 

There were reasons the captain separated them, she knew.  

Lenore’s luck ran out that evening. A narrow route in the straits cornered the ship and crew in the sights of a pirate vessel.

As the crew prepared for battle, Solange stood back in awe as the full power of Lenore was rolled into position. The caravel was a beauty, elegant as a fine lady. This thunder of fire-breathing cannons echoed the darker side to her power. Solange watched at the rails over the horror she felt brought upon the ship and her friends. It was by her charts they chose this route. Naive of the dangers of pirates and cutthroats.

Through the chaos, Marrick appeared at her side. He handed her the sword she had practiced with, and the pistol she trusted more. The look in his eyes told her this was a lesson he hoped never to teach her.  

“Don’t use this unless you have to. Get below decks. Stay with your books and maps.”  

Marrick grabbed a scurrying cabin boy and commanded him to swap clothes with Solange.  

“I will not run from a fight I brought us into.”  

“The navigator didn’t even look at your map, Sol. You’re a piss poor navigator, but you’re not stupid. And you’ve the luck of a devil.” Marrick set his jaw. “Like me.”  

  “Now obey yer new captain, and get below.”

Solange gaped at the man.

“The captain’s dead, Sol.” Marrick’s eyes betrayed only his heartbreak. “Lenore was set up.”  

Marrick nodded to the cabin boy and Solange was swept into the lower levels of the ship.   

When the vessel was taken, Solange stood with the men. Dressed in ill-fitting blouse and trousers, a shabby hat hiding her face. The cabin boy had gone so far as to hack the girl’s hair into an uneven shag.  

She was prodded into service for the transfer of goods, maps, tools, and books. Nothing was left that couldn’t be taken. Guns, supplies, food, water, the pirates meant not to waste time or bullets on the crew, only to leave them adrift to starve or be taken by cannibalism or madness.  

Solange meant to leave Lenore a boon. Even if she had not been the one to  direct her friends into the tragedy, she had not known enough to help avoid it either. 

Carefully scrawled inside a secret stores, a place she knew Marrick would look, she left a simple map of the fastest route to the nearest port. One chance to prove her navigational skills would become her mark. When asked, with the others if she would join the pirates or join the sea. She replied, unfaltering but with head bowed.

“Aye, Captain.”  

For every ship the pirates raided, she would take the maps, logs, and information, but leave the crew her clue. This first, though, was the most important.  

When the pirates marched the handful of turncoats across the plank to the black-sailed galleon, Solange was among them.  

She paused only a moment to envision Marrick’s face in her mind. “When we meet again, you’ll not think me a lost Sol or a childish poppet.”