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When that sharp whistle cut through the air, most of the crew on the upper deck froze, then immediately turned and stood at attention.
Except for one. The newest member, a freebooter from the jungles of Chaac, looked up from his now lonely game of dice in confusion.
"Quartermaster's comin'!" One of the older crew hissed at them, gesturing for him to stand. He did... reluctantly, a look of derision on his face.
"Ya have a Quartermaster? How th' fuck haven't I seen 'im before now, been here more'n a week?"
Gesturing again, the older crew stood straighter. "She got gutted in a fight 'bout two weeks ago, jus' got back on her feet. Was real close, I'm amazed she survived."
"She?"
Another whistle cut through the air, sharper than before, and the entire crew stood even more ramrod straight.
Curiosity overcoming them, the new crew leaned their heads around to catch a glimpse of this Quartermaster....
....to catch a glimpse of the top of a head of flaming hair making its way down the line.
"What is...?"
A young woman, barely coming up to most of the men's shoulders, walked down the line of men, narrowing her eyes at the equipment they carried. If something didn't pass her judgment, she snapped her fingers or whistled, pointing them towards the back of the ship where their armory was located.
Still open-mouthed, the new member kept staring until she stood in front of him. Raising one eyebrow, she glanced at his scimitar before snapping and pointing towards the armory.
"Who th' fuck are you, thinkin' you can tell me what t'do? My weapon's fine, wench."
A sharp intake of air from the men around him made him look around. Every single one had taken several steps back, eyeing the woman in front of him. Slowly, her eyes narrowed, she began advancing on him, one hand gripping a bone-hilted blade in her belt.
"... Daisy." A quiet command rang out from the helm, only a single word. But it was enough to make the woman halt her advance, taking her hand off the hilt of her blade. Huffing softly, she began to turn away before a guffaw broke the silence.
"Daisy?! Your feared Quartermaster... is named after a -flower-? How sad is this crew?! How did I ever think you were a real cr-HRK!"
He didn't have time to react. Hell, he didn't even have time to blink, before a short sword was buried in his chest.
A boot was against his chest, kicking him away and off the side of the boat, before he had even begun to register what had happened.
And as he sank beneath the waves, he caught a glimpse of a wide, manic grin in a sun burnt face, as she gave him a mocking salute.
A warning to all who refused to respect their crew.