(the enemy captain will be a bit slow in posting due to sinus infection, but…)
Pistols drawn, men at the ready, I grins, “Now captain, ye know if ye and yer mate shoot me, I may live, but I’ll be tellin’ ye, all my men down here shoot at ye, yer gonna die, plain and simple. Te make matters worse, kill me and ye know ye’ll never find the map. Drop yer guns like a nice girl and we’ll discuss the lost treasure of qutzulaxa in me cabin…”
Meanwhile, forgotten by all, Malacandra is lurking below decks in the stygian darkness, his hat liberally lined with foil to stymie any tricks that pain of a wizardess might try to pull on him, his feet treading the planks as noiselessly as a black panthers, and his dark brown eyes barely a gleam in the murk.
He notes with interest that in all the toing and froing, the magazine seems to be poorly guarded, and with barely a pause for introspection he helps himself to a handy-sized keg of powder before slipping away. 
Yeah, but you’ll still be dead.
(I’m back albeit briefly.)
And truly, I would die to avenge myself upon you! Have you forgotten so quickly, cretin, it was you who slew my father? And for no other crime than…
…er…
not bowing to you in the square, that was it! And you killed my dog!
But I suppose I’m willing to…bargain, you cur.
Like a nice girl??? She’s Anaamika, Captain of the Chichy Pirates!!! This sounds like a nice girl???
Oh, yeah, about that. On my raids I found a golden statue of someking of bird thing. It was in a museum and was labelled “lost treasure of qutzulaxa.” I took and melted it down. Then I recast it into a statue of me. So, the traesure map was a scam in the first place, and the thing doesn’t exist any more.
::hums a nautical ditty in an undertone::
…and a little here, and here, and in here, and now…
::inserts a length of slowmatch in the bung-hole::
(Whose bunghole, Malacandra?)
STOP BLOWING HOLES IN ME SHIP!
(Bet you’re glad I didn’t say “hawsehole”, Anaamika)
::gleam of a dark lantern briefly uncovered::
::whiff of sparks::
::keg of powder is set down with exaggerated care::
Well, you just had to go and sink me boat, didn’t you?
::muffled squeak of wrench applied to the bolts holding the rudder on::
It’s a good thing the wizardess checked the board before going to work, aye? Now that I’ve kicked that powder keg overboard, it’s time for me to go find that pox-ridden devil and … teach him a lesson …
Well, I’m busy…er…*bargaining * with ArrMatey, the heinous enemy captain, so you’d better deal with Malacandra, that rogue.
::watches with amusement as the swaggering wizardess, her mind empty of aught but her oh-so-powerful magic, carelessly steps into a strategically-placed bight of rope::
::kicks the hundred-pound kedge anchor overboard and looks on as the rope tightens on Draelin’s ankle and yanks her out through the entryport::
“Pox-ridden devil” is it? By careful avoidance of certain waterfront stews, I’ve managed to give the pox the slip up to now, and as to the devil, I leave such matters to those better acquainted with witchery.
::listens to the yell and the splash, both like music to the ears::
Teach that a lesson, Draelin 
::does not bother to watch the bubbles::
Well, lass, I know yer da was important to ye, but there were reasons… And just think, if it nae’d happened, you’d not be the fine, fine captain you are today…
So what say I tell my men to put down their guns, you tell your crew to stop flinging cat-poop, and we take this discussion to the captain’s quarters? After all, there’s plenty more ships in the sea…
pssst! Oy, Captainess! But soft now. Happen ye’ll invite the scury nave o’er to sup, eh?
Happen I’ll be fixin’ some of me special stew…think on.
Heheheheh.
Of course me da was important to me! Ever since mum died, there’s been no one else, just me and da against the world.
Still, if you wish to talk, I’d gladly invite you over to my ship. Let’s say…you and three of your able-bodied men, yes?
CEASE FIRE, CREW! Hold your cat-poop, we have some talking to do.
::loosens the last bolt and watches the rudder fall into the sea::
::sidles along to the capstan barrel, removes the pawls from the ratchet, tosses them over the side::
::applies the flame of the dark lantern to the patches of powder strategically spilled in post #166, and watches the billows of thick smoke start to rise::
Uh…permission to dump bagfuls of hoarded cat poop overboard?
watching the smoke rise from her ship
YOU BLOODY BARSTARD! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?
All hands! Abandon ship! Quickly, now!
realizes her most untenable position, in the clutches of the nefarious ArrMatey
Uh…mayhap we could rethink that meeting, and hold it on your ship? I presume we have much to discuss.
**Malacandra ** is me new sworn enemy and we shall hunt him down!
draws water from the sea to put out all the fires
She won’t burn up, Cap’n, but we might ought to set the conkybines to slappin’ on a new rudder. And I’ll be able to track down that blige-rat Malacandra–tin-foil hats are easy for wizardesses to find, don’t you know.
::feels sure that ArrMatey and his bloodthirsty crew will be sure not to take advantage of the sudden restructuring of the power dynamic in any way, shape or form::
::tosses a few more handfuls of powder on the smoky fire::
::listens to the blessed panic above::
You think?! Concubines! Below ducks! Find that scurvy bilge-rat Malacandra! I’ll gang him up by his toes! For a week, and in the tide pool, too. A thousand godl pieces to the first one who catches him!
ArrMatey, if you try to take advantage, I will get my revenge! Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day.