A Sailboat, Two Mares and a Crate Full of Rum

Chapter Seven

In Which Real Pirates Actually Appear and Shit Prepares to Get Real

***

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Lyra cast a sharp glare at the intruder, standing in a plain linear formation next to a very trembling Bon-Bon, a very angry Vinyl, and a very unamused Octavia.

The captain of the offending ship - a great deal bigger than the little sailboat - marched back and forth on the small free spot of the boat, with his crew watching intently from the huge pirate ship. His beard was black as Marexico-spilt oil, his pirate cap a finest reddish-brown. All the cool captains have beards, Vinyl mused. That's why I'm not a captain yet. Her eyes lingered on a very unbearded Lyra. Or not. Besides, it was not really a question of a physical beard - or was it? It is the inner beard that makes you a captain, Vinyl realised. It's how you perceive the beard. Wow, that's what an epiphany must feel like.

"I am the captain of this ship," Lyra replied defiantly. "And this here is my crew." She pointed at Octavia. "The cook." At Bon-Bon. "Captain's wife." At Vinyl. "The Lieutenant."

"Marvellous," the intruding captain rubbed his hooves. "And what shall I call you?"

"Octavia Philarmonica, without the H in the middle," the cellist was the first to reply, followed by a little indignant huff.

"Vinyl," the DJ said simply, extending her hoof, but, seeing as nopony was going to shake it, lowered it, her face heating up with embarrassment. Damn it, doesn't he know how embarrassing it is, when you stand like an idiot and nopony's shaking your hoof? That was even more embarrassing than that one time when she and Octavia- Drank tea! Just. Drank. Tea, Vinyl repeated mentally, just in case there were some mind-reading aliens observing her. I'll need to invest in a tin-foiled cap.

"Bon-Bon," the captain's wife whispered. Somehow, she was getting more and more shy every minute. Probably the effect of the foursome, Vinyl concluded wisely.

"Captain Lyra," Lyra said. "With a capital C."

The pirate stopped. "Captain Yore Ars."

"That's... not very polite," Bon-Bon whispered, while Lyra fumed with anger.

"No, 'captain' your arse! You came to our ship and now you're-"

In a swift motion, the captain took out his sabre and pointed it at the mint mare. "It's my name, missy. And you will respect it." What kind of parents would call their foal 'Yore Ars'? Vinyl wondered to herself. They must be complete... arses. Eh. "Also, I'm not 'coming' to your ship. I'm claiming your ship."

"Dude, why would you need this old useless sailboat?" Vinyl blurted out. Catching Lyra's infuriated glare, she shrugged. "What? That's true. Totes."

"This word is-" Lyra began, but Captain Yore Ars interrupted her harshly.

"I have a soft spot for old, useless sailboats."

Lyra gritted her teeth. "Whatever! We will fight for this boat! Bring it on!"

Bon-Bon shivered. No, we won't. I won't. I will run and hide. She cursed herself for such meekness, but... Lyra had been responsible, for such a change in her. Partially. Bon-Bon rubbed her belly. Even if she doesn't know.

Octavia braced herself for battle, her skilful eyes already deciphering where she would land her steady hoof-blows.

Vinyl took a step forth, followed by Lyra. I wish we had sabres. I'm not as good at hoof-combat as Tavi... I should have picked a few lessons from her instead of licki- DRINKING TEA.

Captain Yore Ars lifted a brow. "You? You four are going to fight me and my crew. You are four unarmed mares, and we-"

"Dude, that's sexist," Vinyl interrupted, battle anger giving way to disapproval. "Just because we're mares doesn't mean we can't kick your... arse. Sorry," she winced at her sour phrasing. I hope there hasn't been no double negations there or something. Wait a minute...

"No!" the pirate captain barked. "I made an emphasis on 'unarmed', not 'mares'!" For a moment, he pondered under four disapproving stares. "Wait, why am I even discussing this with you?"

The stallion turned towards his pirates. "Chaaaaarge!"