A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Two

...You Drink the Rum, Obviously

***

"Tavi, are we there yet?"

Octavia's eyes narrowed as she cast a glare at her marefriend, blazing with the intensity of a thousand suns and the deadliness of a million steel daggers dripping with venom. "Vinyl. Don't. You. Dare."

The DJ briefly considered whether to obey her inner longing or, for once in her life, be reasonable, and face the goal life was now setting before her like an adult, responsible for her actions and their repercussions.

"Taaaaaaviiii, are we theeeeere yeeeeet?"

The reasonable part of her brain seemed to have lost the battle before it had even begun. As usual. The Striking Hoof of Justice, however, never failed to win the battle.

Vinyl carried on, rubbing her temple. "That's domestic violence," she finally concluded, taking, however, a precautious step aside from the bearer of the ancient mare-beating technique. "Imma report you to the police, Tavi. You are my civil partner and I expect a gentle and loving treatment from you!" Dammit, "Imma"? Now I'm speaking like a zigga... Vinyl's eyes suddenly widened as she realised the implications of her thoughts. Nopony can read thoughts... right? We're not in Nineteen Neighty-Four, after all... Still, just in case somepony was actually monitoring her thoughts, she added mentally, I didn't mean it that way. I didn't mean to say 'zigga'. I meant... "Z-horse."

"You are civil partners now?" Bon-Bon wondered, walking side by side with her cheerful minty mare.

"That's what Vinyl says," Octavia sighed. "It doesn't mean anything, though: what is a civil partnership, after all?" she lamented. "Theoretically, it means living together, sharing property and responsibilities. Equally. In reality, it just means I pay all the rent and do all the housework, because I'm not just a marefriend; I'm a civil partner." The cellist sighed again. The thin line between dating and marriage seemed to be her plight for quite a while.

"Still domestic violence, though," Vinyl observed, watching her hooves clop along the early-autumn asphalt. What a sombre sight. "If you keep punching me, I'll suspend our sexy times!" she warned her mare gravely.

Octavia almost tripped. Almost. "Vinyl, I am the one with the right to suspend sexy times in this relationship!" she exclaimed, drawing the public's attention. The passers-by quickly kept on trotting, though.

"But... Octavia," Bon-Bon said meekly. "Didn't you say that being civil partners implied equality in all matters?"

Two pairs of eyes stared at the confectioner. Bon-Bon yelped slightly and shifted closer to Lyra, feeling the nearness of her mare warm her up. At least we never suspend our sexy times, she thought contentedly.

"Besides," Lyra observed, "if you suspend sexy times, how would I watch your sexy sweaty bodies at night?"

The three mares felt silent, stopping abruptly as the mint unicorn proceeded on her way. Only in a few seconds did Lyra realise that something was wrong. Looking back and seeing Bon-Bon horrified expression, Octavia's murderous one, and Vinyl's hopeful, foursome-longing eyes, she chuckled. "Come on! It was a joke! I wouldn't want to watch your sexy sweaty bodies at night." She pondered. "Well, so long as voyeurism remains a criminal offence," she whispered to herself.

"Well, who wouldn't want to see us have sex?" Vinyl wondered, as it seemed to her, rhetorically. If "rhetorically" is the word I want.

Octavia raised her hoof. Vinyl mouthed, Sexy times.

Reluctantly, the hoof came down.

***

"Mister McKraken will see you in a moment."

Vinyl leaned back in her seat in the spacious lobby in front of the ex-pirate's office, just as The Blackest Pony in Equestria, as Vinyl had titled him, delivered the information and disappeared behind the door. Though, you never become an ex-pirate. It's not a job. It's a devotion. It's a life calling. The DJ made a mental note to write an essay on that.

Meanwhile, Octavia was having an identity crisis. One one hoof, she was the leader. She was the leading mare. She was the bearer of the ancient Striking Hoof technique. She was in the possession of superior wit and thinking capability. But still, she succumbed to her mare - civil partner - and had withdrawn the Hoof of Justice in fear of their sexy times being suspended. I'm losing my touch. Octavia sighed.

Bon-Bon was having a tough dilemma: on one hoof, she wanted to run away, and, on the other hoof, she wanted to run away, only very fast. The choice didn't come easy. One way or another, visiting a pirate (The mare shivered.), a month overdue (Her teeth clicked.), and for him to collect a debt, no less! I shouldn't have let Lyra try to hijack that ship, Bon-Bon lamented. Now, not only were her dreams of running an overseas chain of sweets stores ruined and shattered, but she was also one of the debtors to a pirate captain, or, at least, an ex-pirate captain. Though, he did save our lives back then...

"Please, come on in!" a smooth, refined voice called out from behind the door. The mares got up, begrudgingly, Bon-Bon shaking her mare to wake her up from the snooze she'd been practicing for a few minutes already, and entered the door.

Inside, it was a perfectly plain, ordinary office. There were shelves with various diplomas and bookshelves, and a wine cabinet, and a few impressionist paintings that always looked like they were hanging wrong. The chair rotated, revealing, to the mares, the very same Jeffrey the Kraken, the famous - or, if you wish, infamous - pirate captain. Only now, he was wearing a three-piece suit and sported a top hat and a monocle. He was puffing on a cigar, instead of his usual pipe, and...

"Polly!" Vinyl exclaimed. "Polly, your parrot! Where is she?"

"Now, how is that for a greeting." The pirate smirked. "Why, my dear Vinyl, she is perfectly all right. As are you all, I see." He puffed on the cigar. Octavia suddenly remember that there probably was a smoking ban in the city. Still, she kept her tongue in her mouth. Unlike last night... The grey mare blushed as her own subconscious decided to start a war against her. "Now, I take it you, albeit late, have come to run the errand I have for you so we can be quits, so to speak?"

Octavia nodded. Bon-Bon took a step back. Lyra seemed like she was about to doze off again. Vinyl scrunched her face in mild disgust. "Jeffrey... What happened to you? You were my hero!" She felt tears welling in her eyes. "You were a rum-drinking, pipe-smoking, fun-having pirate! And now? Now you've become just another posh businesspony!" She moaned in despair. "Just like Octavia!"

"Hey!" The cellist tried to protest, but the old pirate let out a raspy cough, drowning out any sound.

"Me knows tha', Vinyl," he rasped sadly at the mare, a tear in his eye. Octavia sighed. And, accent change in three, two, one... "Me knows. But I's had a lo' o' adv'n'ture back in me days. Ye's youn', an' I's envy ye. Me wish I's could go with ye, b't I can't." Bon-Bon closed her eyes, trying to understand the everchanging accent painfully. Lyra, finally, dozed off, on her hooves. "I need ye t' do one last job fer me. I's has a brother, an' I real' need t' del'ver this 'ere pack'ge to 'im." He placed a brown parcel on the table. "Me's too grey 'n' ol' t' do tha'. Ye, though, ye lassies!" He coughed fiercly, in a fit. "Do tha' - I's has th' address written down 'ere - an' me says tha' it's a thank-ye 'nough for me saving ye lives."

Bon-Bon sighed. We don't really have a choice, do we? Vinyl felt a lump in her throat as she watched the sombre decadence of the hero of her youth. Adult...ness. Whatever. Her mind didn't make a connection between only a month passing by and the pirate looking years older.

Octavia frowned. "You own a shipping firm." Mmm, shipping, Vinyl thought off-hoofedly. "Can't you just... you know, ship it?" I know there's a flank here I'd ship to me... Vinyl licked her lips, however, stopping herself immediately. Not here, Vinyl. Not in public.

Jeffrey laughed through a coughing fit. "Na', 's n't possible. Th' way 's long an' dark, fill'd with monsters, and secrets, and the untraversed seas... Nopony has ever been in those deep, dark waters before!" Octavia noticed the sudden lack of accent.

"Um... Your brother lives there. Surely you've visited him," Bon-Bon suggested.

Jeffrey narrowed his eyes. "I'm lazy. And you owe me your lives."

Bon-Bon whimpered, "Okay."

Vinyl levitated the parcel and placed it in her saddlebag. "All right, Jeffrey, we'll do that! Just give us a ship and a team."

"A ship I'll give ye." Jeffrey nodded. "A team? Ye's a team. She's the cap'n." He pointed his hoof at Lyra, who seemed to wake up just now, mumbling something resembling, "Jibagawha?" "She knows how to st'r a ship, and I sees me youngin' in 'er."

Bon-Bon's head began to ache, not in the slightest because of the constant shift in the pirate's accent. Lyra saluted sleepily, not completely comprehending what was going on.

Vinyl opened her mouth in protest, but Jeffrey raised his hoof, preventing any discussion. "I said me word. Now, g't the ship in th' harbour, or find yer own."

Octavia's eye twitched. Nevertheless, she followed Bon-Bon and Lyra out of the room, followed by Vinyl, who cast one last glance at Jeffrey, both solemn and pitying.

Jeffrey sighed and put out his cigar. He took a bottle of rum in his hooves, inspecting it. How long had it been since..? He opened the bottle and took a good swig. Suddenly, the world became a little brighter. With a grin, he pressed the button on the calling device, addressing his secretary, "Call me boys and tell 'em we're not done yet!" He paused, taking another swig. "The ol' good team be goin' adv'n't'ring them seas, yarr!"

With that, he leaned back and pressed the button on his sound system.