"Land ahoy!" a voice bellowed, rousing the weary crew like a thunderclap.
"We can spy it…" the captain growled, squinting through the salty haze. "Glass or no glass, lads, that's our rest. We've been cursed to the sea for nigh on a year. Docking for a week — so keep your heads clear, fill your bellies, and sing your shanties. What else is there, eh?"
"Aye!**" came the roar, the crew slapping the rails and cheering as the Nightshade slid into port.
The Nightshade's hull scraped the wooden pier outside Port-de-Paix, Haiti — home sweet home for Captain Sawyer Maddox. They'd just emptied Veracruz bare, and Ironhook — as they called him — was as feared as the Devil himself. Ruthless as a shark, but loyal as a dog to those he cared for.
Sawyer's lips curled into a sly grin as the townsfolk welcomed them like kings. Port-de-Paix was his blood and bone, and he'd bleed the world dry before letting it fall to ruin.
"Cap'n! Finest room in the house — and the finest girls to warm yer bed!" a saucy voice called out.
"Merida, you devil, it's good to see ya!" Sawyer chuckled, grabbing the woman in a rough hug. He'd saved her from a bad end years back — now she ran the best inn and tavern in the port, a haven for pirates and cutthroats alike.
Sawyer stumbled inside, still swaying like the sea was beneath his feet, but as he hit the mattress, a rare warmth spread through him. The sea was his soul, but a soft bed never hurt.
Sawyer Maddox was the sort of man you'd never forget. Devilishly handsome, with a rough charm carved from years at sea. His sun-kissed skin was weathered, and a jagged scar ran from just beneath his left eye down to his jaw — a souvenir from a blade that nearly ended him once. His dark hair was always tousled, and his eyes held the sharp glint of a man who'd seen too much but wasn't done yet. A devil wrapped in sea salt and danger.
After hours of tossing in his bed, the creak of the wooden floor below and distant voices finally pulled him into a restless sleep. His breathing evened out, and for the first time in months, the restless sea inside him seemed to calm.
A few hours later, the boisterous singing drifted up through the tavern floorboards — the crew's hearty shanties carried on the warm night air. Their voices were raw and rough but full of life, stirring something deep within him.
Then, a soft shuffle at the door startled him awake.
He blinked against the dim light, and there she was — a girl, caught in the doorway, trying to slip back out. She froze when their eyes met.
She was the most stunning woman he'd ever seen.
Curly brown hair tumbled wild around her shoulders, catching the faint light like spun gold. Her eyes were a piercing blue, clear as the tropical ocean, shining with a mixture of surprise and fear. Her skin was dusky, smooth and glowing like the dusk settling outside.
For a moment, time slowed — the pirate captain and the mysterious beauty locked in a silent stare. Sawyer's heart beat a little faster, his usual sharp edge softened by something unfamiliar.
"Well, now," he said, voice low and rough as the sea, "what brings a beauty like you sneakin' into the Captain's quarters?"
She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing a soft rose. "I didn't mean to— I swear, Captain, I didn't want to be here. It was an accident, I was just— I'm sorry." Her voice trembled with nervousness, eyes darting away for a moment before meeting his gaze again.
But Sawyer wasn't fooled. There was a fire behind those ocean-blue eyes — a purpose, a desperation she tried to mask but couldn't hide.
"You're not here by mistake," he said slowly, voice low, folding his arms. "So what's the real reason?"
Her jaw tightened, and she took a shaky breath. "My father… he's been taken by the Spaniards. They're after the Sangre Dorada — the Cursed Blood Gold. Legend says it's cursed, but they believe it holds power beyond imagining." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "He was the only one who knew where it was hidden."
Sawyer's eyes narrowed, a flicker of interest sparking in the dark depths. "And you want me to find him."
She nodded, biting her lip. "Please. I have nowhere else to turn. I thought you might be the only one who could. I— I heard stories about you, Captain. About Ironhook. I thought you were better than the rest, better than those who'd just sell me off or throw me out. Or maybe you're just like the others. Cowardly or greedy. I thought you were different."
Sawyer's scarred face broke into a low, rumbling laugh that echoed off the wooden walls. "By the Devil, you've got spirit, I'll give you that." He shook his head, a crooked grin spreading across his lips. "Most come 'round here begging or crying. You? You storm in, accuse me of being a coward, and still expect me to help. That's bold—dangerously bold."
"And what is in it for me?" He asked.
"I will tell you where the gold is…." She said, "You can have all of it. It's cursed but it is gold…and you can get back at the Spaniards. They have riches beyond our wildest dreams. This little port can be the richest."
Her steady gaze didn't waver, and Sawyer nodded, respect settling in his voice. "Alright then, Miss Firebrand. If you're so dead set on finding your father and chasing after this Sangre Dorada, you've got yourself a captain. But know this — the seas don't take kindly to the faint-hearted."
She smiled, a flicker of hope lighting her eyes. "Neither do I."
Sawyer chuckled again, the sound deep and warm. "Good. Then we set sail at dawn."