The Curtain

The map had been torn more than once, and what was even worse was the fact that it had been closely acquainted with salt water and the ink was running wild in multiple directions. Of course it didn't matter if the water had been salty or not. It just seemed more probable as the Captain had salvaged it from a sinking ship in the middle of the open sea. The galleon had most likely had a long voyage behind it, perhaps all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, and now it had to rest in the bottom of it.

The directions to the treasure were already unclear even without the watery enhancements. Luckily Captain Blake was an expert with cryptic writings and secret codes, after all, she'd served as a spy for the Queen. Ten long years of mortal peril wasted, all because of misplaced love.

In that very moment, with the frail map in her hands, she decided she would love no more. Her only treasure would be a worldly one, and the one she was seeking would put a massive dent in the reputation of the royal crown. After all, it was by a British mistake that the treasure had even been misplaced to the hands of another pirate.

Graverobbers, the lot of them.

All of this satisfied Captain Blake greatly, and she became even more enjoyed when she found that she could indeed decipher the route to the supposed grand ”X". It only took her six hours and two bottles of rum spiked with a little coffee.

”We're going treasure hunting,” she told her crew. She had little need for eloquent speeches – though in battle she was not the toughest, her exquisite skills in navigation and seafaring had earned her the unanimous respect of her men. It helped that she was as clever as a fox when it came to money. Indeed, they had all saved up for retirement, but this particular treasure would take them all towards a royal quality of life as free people. That was what everyone wanted, right? Every pirate wanted to die free and wealthy, in their own bed, of old age instead of a cutlass wound.

There were few questions asked. On they sailed, and the voyage to the uncharted island was uneventful. The men were counting on their Captain, for if they failed this task, they would have to dip into their retirement funds to purchase supplies and fix the ship, as the brig had taken some damage in the fight with the galleon.

Disappointment struck early one morning as they put down their anchor in a turquoise cove. This didn't look like a treasure island. There was too much rock and too little sand to bury anything. They checked the caves, they raided the island, Blake read the map seventeen times and nothing was found.

”Keep on searching!” she roared.

The men threw their spades away on the rocky ground, causing a loud noise to echo all around.

”We've wasted half a year in pursuit of this,” the quartermaster said to her.

”We're running low on everything, food, rum, rope, all of it. Your petty folly and arrogance has brought us close to starvation. Aye, we have money, but we can't bloody eat that!”

Such was the opinion of the boatswain. He always had opinions.

There was a democratic council, and as was to be expected in a fair democracy, the singular dissident lost, the Captain was disposed of without violence, after all, she was neither cruel nor unpredictable, she had just failed. The extent of the danger she had put her men in was so great that she agreed to their terms – she would be given a week's rations in food and water, and a pistol with a single shot, but she would be marooned, and if no merchants would come to pick her up, the pistol would become her only friend.

She felt that this was only fair, as the men would most likely suffer a hunger far worse and some might even die. The winds were not favorable at this time of the year and with so little in their hold, the pirates would certainly have a hard time reaching port before it was too late.

Watching her former ship disappear from sight, she gave herself permission to lose her composure and wailed.

Blake was not one to give up. She considered herself strong enough to take on hunger and thirst. The first thing to do after her tears had dried on their own was to shoot the single shot into the trunk of a palm tree. She didn't want to die like a coward.

A loud noise made the island alive with its echo once again, but something else happened, too. The palm groaned, as if it were too much weakened by the shot, and indeed, it fell down with a monstrous thud and rumble.

Blake was a bit shocked, and as she walked closer, she saw that the ground the palm had grown on was not, in fact, the ground but a very thin yet wide and long rock, a rock that had held the dirt for the palm to grow in but pulled aside by the force of the falling tree. Under that rock was an empty cave, a place that the pirates had missed, and in the very bottom of the cave a little water lingered.

Blake had nothing to lose and the fall wasn't that high. She jumped into the cave.

Her legs were hurt, but not so severely that they would've hindered her walking. She looked around and saw something even more wondrous.

A curtain covering the western end of the cave.

It was made of some simple fabric, but enough care had been put into its hanging from a rope strung across the cave that it had to be the work of someone who really preferred to stay private. There were other humans on this island, and the devious placements of exits had allowed these mysterious people to hide in caves while the pirates searched for treasure high and low. There had to be edible things on this island, or a trade route Blake hadn't heard of, and when she tasted the water surrounding her feet, she found it to be fresh to her delight.

”Splendid!” she exclaimed to herself.

”Who goes there?” a female voice asked from behind the curtain.

Apart from the fact that the speaker spoke English, and the fact that she was female, there was something in the voice that put Blake into a shock. She couldn't place that feeling, or name it, or do anything about it, she was struck by a lightning when she heard the question. A primeval force pulled her closer to the curtain. Her legs were moving on their own. Her heart was nearly leaping out of her chest. Also, there was something sweet and familiar warming her body.

When the curtain was opened, in stepped a woman, dark and slenderly curvaceous, and Blake knew her. Blake knew this face, she knew now who had spoken, for the pirate and this woman had been in love for more than a decade. This woman was the reason for Blake's exile, this polyglot, this French menace. This woman was the salt of her meat. It felt like aeons had passed, yet, at the same time, the old lust grew so strong that it felt like they had never been separated from each other at all.

The expression on the woman's face was delightened, but in such a knowing way that Blake knew instantly – this was no coincidence.

”It was you who drew that map, and thank the Lord above for your wits, Ann-Marie!” Blake said.

”Kingdoms fall,” the woman replied. ”Yet love like ours, it persists.”

The two women could take no more. Blake rushed on her aching legs to embrace the love of her life, this true treasure.