Aurora lazily rubbed her face with her hand, feeling sunlight, warm and bright, hit her eyelashes. She'd had the most fantastical nightmare. She'd escaped the Commodore. In fact, she'd...

"Rise and shine!" Captain Hartsford shouted loudly, making Aurora squeak in protest. "Oh, that would be the effect of the rum."

Aurora hadn't quite stopped at just one sip at dinner. In fact, she hadn't even stopped at a bottle.

She'd stopped at two and a half.

"This... This feeling..." Aurora began, wincing as she sat up. The lace trim of her skirts were now filthy, a strange, green-grey colour from the previous pristine white it had been only a few days ago. "I don't understand-" Her head pounded something dreadful, she felt sick, her tongue felt dead inside of her mouth…!

"You are suffering from the disagreeable physical after effects many men suffer after one too many bottles of alcohol, Lady Aurora." Captain Hartsford's eyes were twinkling in amusement. Aurora could feel the movement of the ship beneath her; she could hear the cries of the men at work, making her wince, and suddenly, Aurora didn't feel very well. "The effects of which are only worsened by a scalding woman, which is now something I'm sure you'll be sympathetic to?"

Aurora nodded, not giving the Captain much attention. She stumbled out of bed and clutched her stomach. For a moment, it was on the tip of Aurora's tongue to call for one of the maids and a damp cloth for her forehead, but she managed to stop herself - such a temporary lapse of judgement would be most damaging. She'd only just managed to earn some respect aboard this ship and it was clearly costing her a significant portion of her health; she couldn't possibly affordto lose the respect she had already gained.

"Why are you in my room?" Aurora suddenly asked, her good sense reminding her that Captain Hartsford, a pirate, had been sitting at the edge of her bed, waiting for her to wake. Whilst that same good sense reminded her that she and the Captain had come to an agreement of sorts, that did not mean she should not be vigilant.

"It's not your room, sweetheart, it's mine... And I didn't mind." Captain Hartsford winked with a roguish smile. Aurora frowned, her stomach turning as the ship creaked and moved. "And I'm here to discuss that."

Aurora glanced down at where Captain Hartsford was looking with mild interest, his eyebrows raised – her chest.

"Again?" Aurora sounded almost exhausted, before realising how her upbringing had taught her to find such topics inappropriate for conversation. "I mean-"

Captain Hartsford laughed, a deep, genuine chuckle that made Aurora start slightly. She hadn't known he was capable of laughter. She'd thought the brooding frown she'd had so solemnly glare at her upon their first meeting was the default arrangement of his face.

Clearly the after-effects of alcohol were more severe than Captain Hartsford had previously described, as Aurora apparently said that last part out loud.

Rather than seeing a form of the aforementioned frown reappear, Captain Hartsford raised his eyebrows.

"I can see, Lady Aurora, that you've never had the opportunity to interact with most men." He murmured, standing. "Be that as it may, when we found your belongings yesterday, there were no clothes." Captain Hartsford bit back a smile as he saw the uneasy expression on Lady Aurora's face, trying to hide his amusement at the woman before him. "Which begs the question, once again, what you plan to wear aboard this ship."

"Clothes, perhaps?" Aurora muttered sarcastically, rubbing her temples.

"How disappointing." The Captain said dryly. Aurora winced, realising how easily she had allowed for such a comment to be made. She glanced up, confused, as Captain Hartsford sighed loudly - and, walking over to the messy desk Aurora hadn't dared to touch during her cleaning spree the day before, Captain Hartsford unscrewed a bottle and handed it to her. "A state of constant semi-drunkenness helps to keep the after-effects of drunkenness at bay, I have found."

Although the sensible part of Aurora, the one who had scolded her for drinking late into the night with a bunch of pirates and killing a man, the slightly – for lack of a better term – dead part of Aurora that had managed to kill the aforementioned man in the first place, she took the bottle suspiciously and took a quick sip.

Captain Hartsford watched as Aurora licked her lips wet, nodding to herself.

"Better already." Captain Hartsford smiled. "Now up you get and get undressed!" He said cheerfully.

Aurora, who had been in the process of taking a much larger sip of rum than she'd originally planned, spluttered all over herself.

"Excuse me?!" Aurora started, her heart beginning to pound frantically in her chest. This was the sort of horror she'd forced upon herself. Her honour would be besmirched, she would never be able to return home, she would forever remain a slave to the Devil inside of the Captain and his crew –

Aurora's sudden fear turned just as quickly into surprise, as Captain Hartsford pulled a roll of gauze, the type used for bandages, out of his pocket. Aurora glanced up at him in confusion.

"I'm not that low in standards and you're not that drunk." Captain Hartsford told her with the type of smile one would give a baby. Perhaps it was the rum, that Aurora did not blush - instead, she simply frowned in Captain Hartsford's direction, as if not quite sure whether to be thankful of the comment or disturbed by it. "Now, off with that monstrosity, and we can give you your greatest wish – we can make you a man!"

Aurora glowered at the Captain, pain her head as it did.

And then, without any further warning, she was sick on the Captain's weathered black boots.

. . .

"If it's of any consolation to your shoes, I'm feeling rather better now." Aurora called from the other side of the small door of the washroom. Aurora winced, as she realised how falsely cheery she had just sounded. "I- I really am sorry, Cap-"

"If you call me Captain, I'll be obliged to make you swab the area of my cabin floor that is currently covered in your bile." Captain Hartsford called dully, from where he leant against the wall on the other side of the door.

"Harts- Harry, then." Aurora corrected, remembering their previous conversation regarding how they should address one another the day before. For a moment, a strange sort of sentiment seemed to touch Aurora's heart. The name Harry was so... Intimate. She shook the thought from her mind. It was the etiquette she had been taught rearing its head again, an etiquette Aurora had to accept did not apply aboard the Edith. Speaking one's Christian name was saved only for the most intimate of moments on land; but here, that was clearly not so. "So… How are we to carry out this master plan of disguise of yours?"

"It's very simple." Captain – Harry – told her with a bored sigh. "You strip, I step in and wrap you up like a dismembered soldier."

Blood rushed to Aurora's face.

"You cannot simply come in while I am-"

"For the love of the sea, Aurora, if I see anything I haven't seen on another woman before, I'll throw a coin at it." Harry sighed, shaking his head and pushing the washroom door open. Aurora let out a small squeak of protest, her back to him – whereas Harry only rolled his eyes, approaching her. "Let me guess – you've never had to undress yourself before?"

"I- I don't need your help, thank you good sir, I-"

"Don't call me good sir, that's what people call my father." Harry mumbled, deftly untying Aurora's waistcoat. His hands were nimble against the tightly pulled knots and the dress soon fell to the floor, Aurora biting hard on her tongue to stop herself crying out in protest as Captain Harry – she really couldn't consider calling him much else, at least to herself – continued to pull on the strings of her corset. Every brush of fabric against her skin, as it moved and fell away, felt as if it held the weight of millions to Aurora; she had never been a fan of her maids seeing her in a state of nakedness, let alone a man - and a man not her husband, though she was glad the Commodore had never exercised the right! "How do women wear these things?"

"It's to erect a good posture and maximise the female silhouette." Aurora murmured dully, remembering having a very similar conversation when she'd been presented with her first corset. The memory temporarily confused her. Surely Captain Harry, with his lecherous mirror above his bed and sinful ways, had more experience with ladies' corsets than even she?

"Looks more like bloody torture to me." Captain Harry muttered. Aurora winced as the corset fell away from her chest, the only thing standing between her complete immodesty and Captain Harry being the presence of her thin, see-through chemise. "Right. Pull it off or yank it down, one of the two, I haven't got all day."

"I am all but naked before you," Aurora hissed, sure now that her body was aflame with embarrassment. "I cannot-"

"You have ten seconds to arrange yourself, or I'll rip it off." Captain Harry told her with a bored sigh. "There's a mirror before you. If you were to stop performing for a society that isn't present on this ship, you could see that I'm about to flatten your chest with my eyes shut. You can guide my hands if I get too close, but if you don't hurry up, Aurora, I'll just have to see what you don't want me to." Aurora inhaled sharply, forcing herself to look into the mirror. "One, two..."

"Alright!" Aurora burst, shame burning at the pit of her stomach as she slowly pushed the chemise off of her shoulders, down to her waist. That way, at least some of her was covered. "I-I'm ready. But keep your eyes closed!"

Aurora glanced up at the mirror before her, just in time to see Captain Harry – with his eyes closed – lazily salute her.

The reflection formed a lump in her throat, a lump that seemed to travel uneasily in her blood as she lived and breathed. Aurora had never liked to see her naked flesh; she felt ugly and self-conscious, seeing the plain, milky skin and gently sagging curves. Quickly, Aurora crossed her arm over her chest.

Yes, she liked it better this way - her chest covered, looking somewhat more modest. It was now that Aurora finally saw herself, for the first time since that morning of the Commodore's death and her great escape.

Her long, dark hair was misshapen from the heat and labour of the past few days, knotting in an unpleasant fashion at the crown of her head. Only now did she notice the faded spots of red on her chemise, most likely after having seeped in through the skirts of her gown - an impressive feat, really. Under her eyes her skin was sallow, and light spots of grime graced her face. Her mouth and eyes were the only thing that seemed as Aurora remembered them, and even so, they were altered; her lips were redder against her face and more swollen, perhaps from the chugging at rum bottles all of the evening before, and her eyes were bright and alert as she surveyed them.

With a start, Aurora realised she looked… Wanton.

And then, as if thunder had struck her, Aurora remembered Captain Harry behind her.

He was sighing impatiently, unaware of the flurry of thoughts that had begun to ravage Aurora's mind in so short a time, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. He was not in the full Captain's uniform she had seen on him before; he was in simple breeches, not trousers like an English sailor, and a simple linen shirt, with only additional boots. The sleeves were not billowing as Aurora had seen in the caricatures; but simply loose and rolled haphazardly up his arms. The shirt itself was low in neck, showing the surprising smoothness of the Captain's bare chest. Aurora blushed at the thought.

And then there was the Captain himself, with unkempt dark hair and hair about his face. Not plenty - more so underneath his chin and nose, less so around the curves of his jaw. His closed eyes showed off dark eyelashes that would make the market-men envious, with their beauty wares. His mouth was thin and pink and as he sighed again, louder this time, Aurora wondered whether this was indicative of how he was with others, what he saw in that mirror above his bed, what happened shortly after other women undressed before him -

Aurora went red, from the top of her head to the furthest of her toes. What was she thinking?! She was no ordinary harlot of his and he was certainly not her love! Aurora vowed to not touch another drop of rum, not even the smallest drop. It truly was a devilish drink!

"I'm ready." Aurora finally said, averting her eyes away from that dastardly mirror.

"Arms up." Captain Harry instructed, his eyes still closed. "Just move my hands if I get too close. If you don't, I can't be held responsible for what I do or don't feel by mistake."

Aurora scowled as Captain Harry smirked behind her.

Gently, pulling Captain Harry's arm underneath her own, she led his hand and the gauze over her breasts, the Captain's other hand pulling the bandage tight over them at her back. The first movement was slow and tentative - so slowly that Aurora almost forgot to breathe, she was so careful to make sure that Captain Harry's hands did not brush over one of the most intimate parts of herself.

It was... Odd. Aurora felt flushed and the room suddenly was stifling hot, despite only a thin layer of cotton being her only protection against the breeze from the deck. She could feel the silver and gold of Captain Harry's rings, cool against the flesh over her spine as they brushed over her, making her fight chills. Not once did Aurora see the Captain open his eyes – and although his movements soon became more fluid as the layers of bandages increased, with Aurora's instruction, a warmth began to spread through Aurora's body.

Instantly, she cursed herself under her breath. She was – this was sinful! Women who accepted lust were not the type of ladies who Aurora had been taught to aspire to. It was - it was the damned rum!

As if he'd read her mind, Captain Hartsford chuckled to himself.

"Lady Aurora, one of the many things you will learn aboard this fine vessel, is that many of the things your precious London society has taught you to abhor are of the few simple pleasures in our lives." Aurora said nothing, Captain Hartsford's hands finally hesitating at her back. "I have to open my eyes now. Cover yourself if you must."

Mumbling under her breath how of course she must, Aurora quickly pulled the chemise from under her arms, covering as much of the bandages as she could.

"Certain pleasures are prohibited for a reason." Aurora said stiffly, the Captain glancing up at her through their reflection in the mirror as he pulled on the two strips of bandages behind her back.

"And it's that prohibition that leads to the alienation between such charming, young people such as ourselves." Captain Harry smirked, leaning down behind Aurora's back and pulling on the knot with his teeth – and the feeling of his hot breath on the skin of her back made Aurora jump away, only for the Captain to place one hand on her waist and yank her back again.

Heat coursed through her body and without realising, Aurora's breaths became slightly more laboured. How dare – how could he just –

"Lust for a man is healthy, yet lust for a woman is sin." Captain Harry smirked over Aurora's shoulder, one hand placed on the side between her chest and her back. Aurora's heart stopped for a moment as he leant forward, smirking at her through her reflection, his warm breath tickling her ear and his lips almost brushing her skin. The reflection in the mirror almost mocked her now - the bright blue against the dark shadow of his lashes over his eyes, brighter and more daring when compared so closely with the almost grey blue of Aurora's own. Her chemise was still loose about her shoulders - and whilst Aurora pressed it to her chest in an attempt at modesty, her back and shoulders were left bare. With Captain Harry so close, his lips by her ear though not touching… It were as if she was no lady and he no sailor, but they were both man and woman, simply that, in a way Aurora had never known, or even thought possible. "I would have thought you were smarter than to simply accept that, Lady Aurora."

Aurora had told him not to call her that and she wished suddenly that he'd listened. He had no concept of polite society; having her call him by his Christian name meant nothing to him, nothing at all. But to hear a man speak her name, so intimately… It was strange, so strange - not comforting like her father's voice, nor possessive like Commodore Grey's, something else, something…

"Get away!" Aurora suddenly shouted, pushing the Captain away and hurrying to hide her shoulders. Captain Harry raised his arms in surrender, stepping back as if her push had no impact at all, and Aurora forced the temporary leanness she had felt warm underneath her fingers from her mind. "I can dress myself from hereon, thank you, and the – the taping I can most certainly suffice to do myself, if it needs doing again! Kindly leave!"

Captain Harry laughed arrogantly – but still, he bowed, grinning at her as his hand touched the door handle and he stood at the threshold between the washroom and the Captain's cabin.

"Try not to fluster too much over me, dear Aurora." He teased. "Although your soul is already doomed to an eternity of damnation after the death of your dear husband, don't want what you can't have."

The small bucket that Aurora managed to grab from nearby just about missed the Captain's head, his laughter echoing in the washroom as he quickly slammed the door shut behind him.

. . .

As she had banished Captain Harry away from the cabin, Aurora had to make do with finding her own clothes.

She did not have a fancy for wearing a dress that day; or any day, in fact. As irritating as the Captain was, hearing someone else's disgruntlement at corsets had made Aurora reluctantly admit that he had a point; as she once had, upon her initial distaste for them. And she had no real reason to wear dresses, or corsets here. And who would help her? Unfortunately, Captain Harry had been correct - Aurora could not remember the last time she had dressed alone - and she would not give Captain Harry the opportunity to fluster her again.

Instead, Aurora rifled through some of the trunks in the cabin. She supposed Captain Harry wouldn't mind, though the possibility that he would was a fear she forced away. If he could share his precious rum, surely odd bits of clothing were of no trouble?

Aurora was pleasantly surprised to find that a linen short, not unlike the Captain's own, fitted fairly well on her. With her chest pressed down, a new feeling, Aurora found it was much easier to fashion the shirt, already slightly torn - and so quickly, Aurora used her wits to tie it in such a way that it was loose but fitted on her shoulders, airy but giving no hint to the bandages beneath. She hid the knot on the inside of a spare set of breeches she had found, which were still loose about her legs, and secured it with a half-broken belt she'd found on the floor the day before.

Finally, she found a beautiful waistcoat - long and embroidered with blue and silver, though scratched and marked in places. It was the amongst the nicer things she'd found and although she felt somewhat shy at taking something so lovely from the cabin without permission, Aurora finally decided to allow herself the luxury. The threading was rough under her fingers, but smooth too, and soft. But she did not wear it - she would fix it first, for something so beautiful deserved to be lovingly repaired. She kept it folded in a corner, for later.

The only luxury Aurora allowed herself was to brush her own hair - first she attempted to use a comb she had found, but it contained short, dark hairs in it, and Aurora had placed it back where she had found it - it must have been Captain Hartsford's. She found a brush, too, tangled with long strands of different coloured hair - and Aurora realised it must be for the Captain's… Visitors. She would not use it, as if one of them!

So Aurora finally consented to sitting herself down on the newly-scrubbed floor, running her fingers through her hair until it felt somewhat lighter. It rough work on her head and Aurora could feel the grime of it on her fingers, but when it was done, she felt somewhat better.

The sun was rising high in the sky when Aurora finally emerged from the cabin, her stomach grumbling rudely at being ignored - though the thought of food made Aurora feel sick. It was a warmer sun than she remembered, too, and the air felt hot and heavy, despite there being a strong, chilling breeze every so often.

"The lady wakes!" Aurora felt a smile upon her face as she heard Dyer's voice, ringing out loudly across the deck. The Edith looked wonderful in the light of day; some of the sailors were swabbing the deck, others fussing around the barrels and boxes tied to the sides, some climbing the ropes… Their bright, mismatched clothes looked cheerful in the day and their bare feet somehow made the Edith seem somehow more homely.

"Well, I'll be damned, miss." Dyer said delightedly, approaching her. Although Aurora remembered Dyer drinking considerably more than her the night prior, he seemed in good spirits. "And you barely look like one of them fine lady folk, if you don't mind me saying!"

"She looks like a cleaner version of one of us." Kit grinned, leaning over and sniffing her. Although Aurora jerked back, a smile still graced her face. At having him so close, Aurora was surprised at what she saw; the soft-looking, light brown hair of Kit made him seem so young and for the first time, Aurora wondered just how old the crew were. Dyer's hair was dark, though more reddish than the blackness of Captain Hartsford's, and it struck Aurora that they seemed the youngest of the crew; not the balding men with stubs of grey where their hair should be, or gaunt-faced from years at sea. "Smells as good, too!"

"And I can work just as hard, I assure you." Aurora promised, smiling. She smiled at the others, too, recalling names from the haze of the evening before - the thin, rather intimidating man they called Thatch, who was the navigator, alongside his bird; Morris, a quiet and thoughtful man, portly but pleasant; and, Aurora felt her smile slip somewhat, as she felt the hostile eyes of a man named Stevenson. She hadn't spoken with him much the night before, but she had felt his judgement and his raking eyes, throughout the evening. He, with two others, watched her with gleaming eyes from the other side of the deck. "What am I to do today?"

"To do?" Kit laughed. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Aurora blinked. "You can't expect me to simply sit in the cabin all day, can you? I'm out at sea, with a bunch of pirates. I should think there's enough to do, that even a woman's hands may be needed."

"Useful hands at that." Dyer agreed, remembering her cleaning. "But… Well, there isn't an awful lot you can do, miss. You're not to have a hair harmed on your forehead and all the climbing and swabbing and the like isn't for that."

"But there must be something…"

"Can you sew?" Kit asked suddenly. Aurora's face fell. "There are linens and things that could do with some sewing and it could be pleasant work - if the Captain doesn't mind it, you could sit out on the deck with us and look to the sea. And Father would love the company."

"Father?" Aurora repeated.

"Father Bailey, he sits down below and does most of the woman's work, though you'd be mad to say that to him." Dyer muttered. "He's old, but likes to be out at sea, and rumour has it he keeps an eye out on the Captain. Caspar barters the Captain owes him a debt, and pays it out by having him on the adventures."

"Caspar…?" Aurora felt confused, by all of these names and references to things she didn't understand. But she must try - if she wanted her time aboard the Edith to be well spent.

"The Spaniard. Heathen fellow of the barbarians in the East, so the Captain thinks him especially handy with a sword." Dyer grinned, somewhat unkindly, before nodding over to one of the men securing some ropes. He was dark-skinned, but as if from the sun, with hair as dark as Captain Harry's and a serious expression. "And Father Bailey rarely comes up for drinks with the men. You could meet him."

"But I'd rather hoped to learn something new." Aurora confessed. "I could sew all day back in London, though I've never had the patience for it-"

"What would you do, then, miss?" Kit asked kindly. She smiled at the softness of his voice, even if Dyer scoffed at him for it. "What would you like to learn?"

"Well, I…" Aurora looked about her. Men hung from the masts, sat leisurely on the steps leading to the quarter deck from where they stood now, on the main… But as she glanced around, Aurora spotted two men slashing at one another with long swords. "That!" She said excitedly, pointing. "I'd like to learn to sword fight!"

Kit and Dyer glanced at one another, before laughing hysterically.

"It's not as if I've not used a sword before!" Aurora protested, feeling wounded.

"That may be, miss." Kit chortled. "But that's - that's something else entirely!"

"Is that not the purpose of learning something new?" Aurora said primly. "Why, I could teach you something new in return - what would you like to learn?"

"We're beyond hope for learning." Dyer said cheerfully. "Reading, writing, we're not the type."

"Don't be silly!" Aurora said immediately. "What of your loved ones?" She added hastily, seeing their suddenly sombre faces - "- or young ladies who you meet on the shores? A nice young girl would love a letter from the sea, I'm sure."

"From a pirate?" Dyer snorted.

"Women not born of higher rank are drawn to two types of men, my friends, rogues and gentlemen." Aurora told them primly, glad that something had finally come of all of those hours of gossiping at parties and balls. "Now, whilst I admit you may not be… The typical gentleman, a man who offers adventure with a bit of genteel is certain to capture a lady's attention!"

Aurora had expected more jests from the sailors, Dyer at least - but instead they were surprisingly thoughtful, as if considering her offer with care.

"You really think so?" Dyer frowned. "We're still pirates, rag-tags-"

"That may be, but neither of you are beyond help in terms of the physical gifts God gave you." Aurora said simply, flushing slightly as Dyer grinned. "I mean, as a lady, I can certainly help you - so long as you promise not to be cads to these girls, I'm sure."

"The types of girls we meet on land aren't the gentle type, miss." Kit admitted ruefully.

"Even so." She said firmly. "More so than any other, a woman of the night would be grateful for some kind words and romance."

A part of Aurora was surprised at her words, talking of those unchaste women as if they were her own friends - but it was also freeing, and the latter much surpassed the feeling invoked by the first.

"So… How would this work, then?"

"We'd have to level it with the Captain." Kit added.

"He'll come around!" Aurora insisted, though she wasn't so sure. "How about our agreement, then - I will help with the sewing as part of my duties on this ship, as a fellow comrade if you would treat me as such, and then I will teach you to the gentlemanly arts - so that you may teach me the arts of a pirate!"

"But when?" Kit sounded distressed now, and looked it, too. "Learning to sword fight before the others would only make them laugh before you, miss and they certainly won't take too kindly to their littlest boy trying to make himself something he's not-"

"There's always the night-times." Dyer suddenly piped up. Aurora was surprised. She'd took his sudden silence as him being disgruntled and disinterested in her and Kit's plans. "When the men retire for some rum-" Aurora frowned at the mere thought. "- Father Bailey comes up to map the stars and some of the older men share stories. Even the Captain, when he's feeling thoughtful. It would be quiet enough to find a corner and settle down."

"It's settled, then!" Aurora said quickly, before anyone should change their mind. She beamed at them. "It's a deal."

Dyer and Kit nodded at one another - before spitting in their hands and offering it to her.

Aurora hesitated.

Dyer burst into a fit of giggles.

"We were teasing, miss." Kit told her, smiling as he wiped his damp hand down his breeches.

. . .

Shortly afterwards, Dyer led her down to meet Father Bailey.

Although Aurora had been abroad the Edith for two full days now - though it felt like so much longer -, it was awing to see just how large the ship truly was.

Dyer had led her to the opposite side of the ship from the Captain's cabin, through a set of doors that smelled not the most pleasant and filled with bunks. It had seemed to go on forever, though she doubted it was much larger than the cabin she herself had stayed in; but then Dyer had led her down a narrow staircase, through a small door, past some barrels and a line of baskets filled with linens and an empty cot and finally, stopped at another door tucked at the end. It reminded Aurora of one of her father's smaller estates, or stately manners in how, to one trained to it, there were twists and turns creating mazes of shortcuts.

Dyer had then knocked on the door and, upon being told by a cheerful voice to enter, had motioned for Aurora to walk through and shut the door behind her.

Aurora was surprised by what she found.

The room before her was small, but neat, and homely. A cot, though of a sturdier frame than that of the one outside, was tucked neatly in the corner, under a small circular window that Aurora could see was bolted shut. A small stool was placed neatly beneath it.

To her side, next to the door and against the small part of wall available to it, was a little desk. A pile of books were stacked underneath it and the desk itself held ink and parchment, filled with beautiful, flowing writing… And next to that, Aurora was surprised to find a large opening in the wall, much like a doorway, covered in a thick fabric that was currently tied to the side. Through it, she could see a very small, comfortable-looking deck that overlooked the back of the ship.

It was on this deck, on a small chair, that an elderly man looked up at Aurora in surprise.

"Father Bailey?" Aurora asked hesitantly - before, upon seeing the clear, freshness of his face, and the varying shades of locks of silver and grey, she curtseyed. Clearly, this was not simply another man of the crew - there was an air about him, about the cleanliness and simplicity of the room, that meant Aurora somehow knew that he should be held in high esteem. "Lady Aurora Odelia, Father."

"Oh, child, there's no need to be so formal - sit, sit!" The man said quickly - and his voice was as clear and English as the King's himself. He stood - in trousers, Aurora was surprised to find, not the breeches of the other sailors -, a shirt and small, clean waistcoat of black silk. "I apologise we haven't met before, Harry mentioned you to me. You are our new guest?"

"Yes, Father-"

"Bother not with all that." He said brazenly, waving the hand that now held the small, wiry glasses that had been perched on his nose. Aurora was temporarily startled - his eyes were so very blue, yet so icy at the same time- that she couldn't help but wonder if he and Captain Harry were somehow related. But there was a warmth about him that Aurora had not felt on the Edith so far, not even from Kit or Dyer. "The men assume to call me Father because they consider me learned, but I'm no more learned than any other man you would have surely met company with in London. It is London, that you're from?"

Aurora nodded.

"Sit, sit, my dear." He insisted, pulling the stool from under his cot. Gently, Aurora sat, smiling as the man - who did not look too old, though perhaps the same age of her father -, ran a hand through his long hair, that fell to his ears. His face was peaceful - with a long, straight nose and a thin mouth. It somehow seemed… Strong. "I have heard that you refer to our good Captain as Captain Harry?" Aurora nodded again. "Well, then, you may call me simply Bailey, if it pleases you, my Lady."

"It would please me, F - Bailey." Aurora corrected with a warm smile. "And it would please me if you were to call me Aurora, too."

Bailey smiled.

"Aurora, then." He nodded. "What can I help you with, Aurora?"

Aurora quietly explained her arrangement, suddenly realising that perhaps she and Kit and Dyer had been audacious to presume Bailey's support. But upon hearing of it, Bailey surprised Aurora - for he simply laughed.

"How brilliant! A lady aboard the ship, who would mix as one of us!" Bailey chortled. Aurora watched him uneasily. "Oh, don't be worried my dear girl, I laugh not at you, but at the expression of utter horror Harry would have had upon hearing it."

Aurora looked guiltily to the floor.

"… I see." Bailey said knowingly. He patted Aurora's knee gently and although such a thing would ordinarily have made her start, Aurora found nothing of it - if anything, she felt as if she were at school again. In a rather nice way. Nicholas had had a tutor once, to teach him games and the like, and he had always fed Aurora sweets when he bought them for his grand-niece, who would often come to play. "Leave it to me, dear. And should anything trouble you, know that I am entirely at your disposal."

"That's very kind, Bailey!"

"Psh." He waved his hand. "Though I will say this - there is not any lady, high born of not, who should have to deal with the sewing of the men's linens. I would be happy to learn from you, if you would have it, but you mustn't bother yourself - no, no, I insist. The men are in charge of cleaning their own clothes and Harry likes to see to a ship without stench, but the men get away with what they can, including their own laundry."

"But I must help you with something." Aurora protested. "It isn't fair-"

"I'd be glad of the company!" Bailey told her cheerfully. "Harry and I play cards some nights, but he's better managing the crew's intake of rum in the evenings - they can get rather rowdy-" Bailey laughed as Aurora turned slightly pink. "- ah, you've had the pleasure, I see! No wonder we did not meet yesterday, or this morning. No matter. I would not deprive you of your fun, though should you ever seek refuge from such events, know that my little abode here-" Bailey motioned to the small room. "- is welcome to you."

"Thank you. Though I really must help with something-"

"If you truly insist, you may help me with other boring tasks, such as inventory and perhaps acting as my nurse - the room just outside is our makeshift infirmary, and another set of hands would be useful, so long as it would not upset you - I do not mean to offend, and if you have a queasy stomach - perhaps it is not such a good idea-"

"No, no!" Aurora said quickly, though the thought of foul smells and pus-filled wounds made a lump form at the back of her throat. "I'd like to learn something new. It'd be like school - I always enjoyed it - though do you really trust me to help you with the inventory?"

"You learnt numbers, I presume?" Bailey asked. Aurora nodded. "Excellent. I don't see why you would count any less than a man, just because you are a woman."

Aurora beamed.

"- though one would hope, given your stay with us here, that we need not hope for more sets of hands. Your journey should be a peaceful and pleasant one." Bailey said. Aurora bit back a small laugh. Suddenly, she felt as if she were being invited as a guest to a grand house, not blackmailing a pirate to keep her captive on his ship. "Very well! It's a fine morning - what say you that you begin to amend my awful stitching skills, and we sit on the deck, overlooking the sea? Unless you get sea sick?"

Aurora shook her head. She loved the sea… She and Nicholas…

That same familiar pang of emptiness made itself apparent in her chest. She must stop this nonsense! Nicholas was gone… Nicholas was gone… And so was the Commodore now, and there was nothing else to do…

"Excellent!" Bailey clapped his hands, a loud, happy sound that made Aurora jump from her thoughts. "I shall fetch the baskets, would you be so kind as to pick from that small box some needles and thread? There's some cheese, too, if you'd like to nibble on it, small as you are - like a mouse! - and you can tell me of London and how you came to be, though you mustn't if it ails you, but oh, tell me of London and its streets - I do love the sea, but I miss my London so very much sometimes, and none of the other lads entertain me for it!"

It was surprisingly easy to speak to Bailey, more so than Aurora would have imagined. She did not speak of her own affairs - not of the Commodore, or Nicholas, or her mother -, though she did mention her father fleetingly and the King, though not their closeness. She liked Father Bailey - she understood why the men called him Father, he was so dear and lovely to spend time with and so very concerned with her welfare already -, but she still must be careful. She was bartering with pirates, after all.

But Aurora did tell him of London; of the cobbled streets, of the new houses and latest fashions, of the stories in the printed papers that her father let her sneak away and read… She had faltered then, a little, remembering her life before she'd become engaged. But then she'd carried on happily, and soon her and Bailey were discussing their favourite foods and then the foods they had on the ship and then storage, and then the day-to-day life and soon, it felt as if Aurora was a part of the ship herself.