rebakahgranger

Kendra Cayden jerked awake to the sound of cannonfire raining on the large port town.  Grinning, she scrambled out of her makeshift bed of ratty sheets and yanked on a shirt and trousers.  She slipped her knife sheaths onto the insides of her wrists, then hastily braided her light auburn hair.  Picking up her pair of worn leather boots, she silently padded across the hard dirt floor of the shack she had lived in for most of her life.  Careful not to wake her mother, she slowly eased the creaky wooden door open, cringing when she heard a squeak.  She tentatively looked back at the calmly sleeping form of her mother.  Thank God, Kendra thought

“Cap'n Arthur Kirkland, the most dangerous pirate ever t' sail these 'ere waters. He's got a price on 'is 'ead so high, the laddie who brings 'im to the Crown's justice won't 'ave t' lift a finger for the rest o' his days. O' course, only if anyone ever catches 'im, 'im and 'is ship, the Black Phantom. They don't call her the Terror of the British Isles fer nothin'. She's a right beauty, the Phantom. 'Sides the flag she bears anyway. Made o' the darkest wood I e'er seen; on top of that, she’s been known to vanish.  Sometimes the Phantom is seen without a crew, and then vanishes into the fog.  On the chase, just vanish into thin ai