Jack's Blasphemous Heist [1]

Music while reading: [summer seas and salty wind (piratecore)]

Their presence mingled seamlessly within the bustling market of Silk Harbor, where merchants peddled their wares and pirates sought their fortunes.

In the heart of this lively scene, Jack and Mary huddled together, intently examining the treasure map.

The parchment bore the weathered testament of time, its surface tinged with the sepia hues of age, corners frayed from countless unfurlings.

Upon its surface, an island within the Sea of Wales was meticulously rendered, a mere stone's throw from their current haven along the Lerton Sea.

The parchment was divided, one side presenting a broader scope of the Sea of Wales, guiding the way to their intended destination. The other half, a detailed close-up of the island, bore a distinctive X marking the spot of their coveted prize.

Shielding the map from prying eyes, they meticulously studied its contents, a covert communion between captain and first mate.

"Captain, you've got us a fine piece here," Mary exulted, her voice a hushed murmur.

Jack's gaze remained fixed on the map, his expression one of calculated satisfaction. "Aye, lass. This looks like the genuine article. But coin is what we need for provisions and spirits, and we're short."

Mary's eyes gleamed with a conspiratorial spark. "Captain, let's talk on the way back to our quarters."

A malevolent smile played upon Jack's lips, an outward display of his satisfaction at the turn of events, a testament to his cunning and resourcefulness.

...

Inside their rented chamber:

The room held a single window, crafted from sturdy wood, allowing glimpses of the outside world. Though modest, it boasted a semblance of cleanliness, the aged bed, however, bore the marks of countless 'voyages', displaying a tapestry of white and shadowy stains.

Its frame, fashioned from simple timber, cradled a mattress of straw, while a lone cotton-stuffed pillow beckoned. A blanket, woven from cotton threads, offered solace against the chill.

A solitary half-candle, perched on the wooden floor, stood sentinel, surrounded by a parade of solidified wax.

"Captain, this chamber be a step above the rest below," she remarked.

Jack made his way to the window, swinging open the wooden casement to admit the golden embrace of sunlight.

Seated on the well-traveled bed, their gazes locked in mutual understanding, he gestured for her to proceed. Her earlier tale had been but an appetizer, and he hungered for the main course.

"Arr, when me eyes caught sight of a ship pullin' into the trade quarter, I counted but two guards makin' their way ashore, with one keepin' watch," she regaled, though her tale was promptly cut short.

"That, lass, would tarnish me already muddied reputation," he interjected.

Undeterred, he pressed on. "Did ye catch sight of what the vendor was unloading?"

"Silk and rum," she confirmed.

Jack's eyes gleamed with avarice at the mention of silk—a veritable trove of coins awaited. "Oi, Mary, even if I say aye, it might pose a challenge. The old swab might seek me out."

He chimed in, "Aye, but salvation be in the horizon. We'll drop anchor away from prying eyes, where the island's veil will keep our secrets safe."

Mary gave a firm nod, her voice tinged with practicality. "Them two guards'll likely return with the night, makin' 'em four strong."

A hearty laugh erupted from Jack, punctuating the air with his amusement. "Lass, it be three, unless ye've been countin' yer cups of spirits, that is. HAR HAR."

Her brow furrowed, voice firm, "I counted the vendor too." She paused, then added in a pirate's direct manner, "As the craftiest of thieves, what's yer grand scheme, then?"

She in fact did not count the vendor.

Jack contemplated for a beat, then revealed, "With a touch o' luck, lass. By nightfall, we make our move—I'll dispatch two, and you'll handle the third. We seize what we can. While our bounty may be constrained, snatch up as much silk as ye can. I'll procure a modest cask of rum, if perchance any be found."

For Jack, infamy was a companion, his reputation forever tarnished by audacious thievery. Breaking the unspoken code of pillaging while a ship lay anchored was but a trifling matter, the allure of riches too great to resist.

Encounters with former victims and aggrieved pirates were commonplace, yet he navigated these perilous waters with seasoned skill, either charming his way to safety or making a swift getaway. His reputation as a wily fugitive served him well in evading pursuit.

Mary nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "I'm bored, captain," she declared, dropping a not-so-subtle hint.

Jack was well-acquainted with Mary's cues from their time together on the high seas. He chuckled, conceding, "Alright, go fetch us the spirits from the ship."

Her face immediately brightened with delight as she hastened to carry out the task.

...

As night's cloak enveloped the scene, Mary deftly tended to the ship's sails and anchor, preparing for their covert return to the previous location, ensuring a swift escape.

Once they reached the familiar spot, Jack's voice rang out with authority, "Drop anchor!"

With moonlight casting a pale golden sheen, they descended from their vessel, ready for the stealthy operation ahead.

The nearby ships, smaller in stature, seemed dormant, save for one exception—a formidable pirate ship, its guardians numbering eight, warding off any would-be intruders.

Navigating through the once bustling market, now abandoned, they drew nearer to the dock area, Jack's eyes scanning their potential targets.

"Which one, Mary?" he inquired.

Pointing towards a ship of notable size, its windows barred and cabins aglow with candlelight, Mary's finger served as a guide. Three guards, positioned strategically, guarded the vessel—two on deck, one within.

"Seems peculiar, doesn't it, lass? A ship this size, with so few guardians," Jack mused.

"Aye, captain. Yet, our odds here be better than takin' on those with a score of men," Mary reasoned.

Descending the zigzagging wooden stairs, they reached the dock's lower platform, connected to a series of smaller ones. In the gaps between, the ships lay in rest.

In the shrouded darkness, the moon offered its meager illumination. With a calculated finesse, they slipped into the water, their movements as silent as the gentle lap of the tide.

Jack ascended first, his head barely visible above the wooden frame of the ship. Vigilant, he surveyed his surroundings, seeking the opportune moment to spring into action. Tonight, his signature tricorn remained absent, a deliberate choice to minimize his profile.

As soon as the guard turned his attention towards the bow of the ship, he sprang onto the deck, Mary swiftly following suit, the dance of shadows concealing their movements.