Rose Sweetsail was fascinated by ships. She was fascinated by the sea and the inherent freedom that came with sailing it. She was not fascinated by the wild sea tale that the world once had things called 'continents'. After all, how could it? For as long as anypony could remember, the ocean covered most of the known world, leaving only scattered islands to live on. But as the sea tale went, the world had once been far more dry and varied, with lands that stretched as far as the eye could see, and ponies living in every conceivable space. These ponies supposedly had vast cities that made up a kingdom, and it had been called “Equestria.”
Pish posh, Rose thought primly. What a silly thought!
The tale went on to say that a great and terrible beast, ominously named the ‘Beast of the Deep’, wiped this old world away, swallowing it with his oceans in a hungry bid to possess everything with his essence. Supposedly, it was thanks to the brave efforts of six ponies that the ponies of today even had islands to live on. The Beast of the Deep had been denied his complete victory. According to the legend, the villain’s rage manifested itself in powerful storms and rogue waves...because of course it did.
Superstitious nonsense.
It wasn’t that Rose hated sea tales. As stories went, it was an interesting one. But with other sea tales, there was at least some grain of truth in them. But this? There was nothing tying it to reality. It was a legend out of touch with the world, as far as she was concerned.
I wish Swashbuck would see that...but I suppose there’s nothing for it. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?
Swashbuck was a handsome brown stallion that washed onto Overo Island’s shores two years ago, half dead and half mad. None expected him to amount to much of anything, Rose included.
“The sea takes its due of another poor sailor. Aye, that she does,” the local sailors had murmured grimly.
But then Swashbuck regained his strength, nursed back to health by his countless mare admirers. With his health restored, the stallion was swift to repay the island for its kindness, providing his services wherever possible. The older mares nickered that never had they seen such a miraculous turnaround. Rose, like many of the other young mares, found her heart fluttering at the sight of the dashing Swashbuck cantering by, his roguish black mane and sleek powerful body barely exerting itself as he pulled a wagon heavy laden with the latest port shipments to town. On his sculpted flank, his cutie mark showed a tattered flag rippling in the wind, crossed sabers on its face. Flashing on his chest was also a necklace with a bronze medallion.
The town’s opinion of him remained fairly positive as time wore on that first year...that was, until he started his talks of setting out to sea.
By that point, it wasn’t the idea of Swashbuck becoming a captain that was ludicrous. After all, he practically had the town eating out of his hoof. No, the whispers started when Swashbuck revealed just where he wanted to sail to.
“Equestria?” The harbormaster had repeated a year ago, eyes wide and mouth askew.
“Aye, that’s what I said. I want to know of somepony who can design me a ship to get me to the land of Equestria!” Swashbuck said with strained patience.
That fateful day, Rose had been shopping for a present for her mother’s birthday at a nearby jewelry stall. She peered sidelong, one ear turning in the direction of the burgeoning conversation.
“Swashbuck, Equestria doesn’t exist,” the harbormaster explained with exaggerated slowness. “And even if it did, there isn’t a naval architect alive who could draw up a ship that could sail that far! The sea has swallowed any sailor fool enough to try.”
“It can be done,” Swashbuck argued, his ears going flat.
“Haven’t you learned your lesson the first time you were shipwrecked? Give it up, lad! You’re better off finding yourself a nice mare and just settling down.”
The stallion snorted, his eyes narrowed as he turned from the harbormaster and trotted away. When he passed behind Rose at the jewelry stall, the mare took a deep breath and without turning around, she cried out loudly, “I can do it!”
Swashbuck froze, his head whipping this way and that. “Who said that!?”
With a hard swallow, Rose turned around, her head dipping down shyly. “I--I did…”
The stallion approached her slowly, his warm shadow swallowing her whole in the evening sunlight. Up this close, the mare could finally make out what his bronze medallion showed: a long menacing serpent, circling to the center.
His eyes took in her slim, petite body, her rose pink coat that lightened at the legs, her thick midnight blue mane. His gaze traveled from her spiraled unicorn horn, to the green ribbon on her head, to the slim green choker on her neck, and to her curly feminine tail. He craned his neck to the side, gazing without reservation at Rose’s flank. Her cutie mark displayed a ship emerging from a horizon, a rose in bloom on its full milky sail. The mare flushed with heat at his audacity.
Swashbuck straightened and raised a brow, “What makes a pretty lass like you think you can help me? I thought your family only worked with cloth.”
The Sweetsails had worked with cloth since anypony could remember, their primary income coming from the creation of ship sails, though they dabbled in other practical cloth work, such as upholstery. Rose was good with a needle, but it wasn’t her destiny.
Ire straightened Rose’s back as she glared softly up at the stallion. “I’ll have you know my true talent lies in designing ships. I’m only helping my family until such a day that I can finally sail off this island and live my true calling!”
“And what’s that?” Swashbuck asked with a patronizing chortle.
“Sailing. Exploration. Adventure. I was meant to be out at sea, plying my talent, and experiencing life to the fullest!”
The stallion shook his head, already turning away. “I don’t think so.”
Rose’s ire grew to full on insult, and she hurried to cut the pony off, hooves skidding in the dirt as she did so.
Swashbuck blinked at her in surprise, his head reared back as she shrilled up at him with neck stretched, “Now you listen to me, sir. I am just as good, if not better, than any of the boatswains here! I know how to design ships! I know how to maintain them! If you want to convince a shipwright to build a boat for you, you’ll need somepony who knows what they’re doing, and I am that pony!”
Swashbuck chuckled, but it was with exasperation this time. “Er, Miss--sorry, what was your name?”
“Rose. Rose Sweetsail.”
“Listen, my dear Miss Sweetsail. Let’s assume that you actually can do all that you say. There’s one other problem we would have to contend with.”
“Which is?”
“You. What sailor in their right mind would trust the work of such a delicate cloth working filly as yourself? Why, I would be laughed off the island for even suggesting it!”
Rose snorted, lifting her nose high. “Well what does it matter if you are laughed off the island, so long as you are laughed off on my ship? I thought the main point was in sailing away?”
“First of all, it would be my ship. Second, you’re missing my point. I can’t convince--”
“Well you would just have to find a way wouldn’t you?” Rose interjected with narrowed eyes. “Or is your resolve so easily done away with?”
At this Swashbuck’s jaw clenched. “All right,” he bit out. “You design me a ship capable of crossing the world, and I’ll get it built. Now what did you want in exchange for your work?”
“I thought that was obvious! I want to join your crew as your boatswain.”
Swashbuck groaned with a sardonic grin, his eyes slipping shut. “Of course.”
“It’s that or nothing, Mister Swashbuck.”
The stallion gazed down hard at her, his slate gray eyes piercing. The mare shivered, but tried to keep her expression resolute. Inside, however, her heart hammered. This could be it, she thought with great anxiety. This could be my chance at freedom!
After a long pause, Swashbuck heaved out a sigh. “Very well. You may be my boatswain.”
Rose rose up and clopped her hooves gleefully, her eyes sparkling with sudden tears of joy. “You truly mean it?”
He smiled. “Yes, Miss Sweetsail.”
“Hoo-ray!” she cheered, hopping about the stallion like a filly. When she remembered herself, she giggled nervously and tried to resume a more graceful pose. “Ahem... I mean… Thank you very much for this opportunity Mister Swashbuck. I shall start on the designs straight away.”
“See that you do,” Swashbuck said with a grave nod. “I wish to depart as soon as possible.”
Rose started to back away, nodding eagerly. “Of course, of course! As do I!” She turned, ready to hurry home.
“And one more thing!” he cried behind her.
She paused, looking back curiously.
Swashbuck, with a dazzling white smile, winked at her. “From now on, it’s Captain Swashbuck.”
Rose’s knees grew weak and she chuckled awkwardly. “Er, yes. Quite right. Goodbye...my captain.”
As she galloped away, Rose’s face pulled long with horror. Did I just say MY captain? What is the matter with me!?
It wasn’t until later that she realized she had forgotten her mother’s birthday gift that day. She was very sorry for it, and her father was quite displeased. But even this could not stifle her joy.
Freedom! Freedom at last! she had thought rapturously.
Now, one year later, and the ship was finished. When pressed by Rose, Swashbuck admitted that only a small portion of the ship's construction had been funded by his own accounts. Most of it, he had explained, had come from his wealthier mare admirers on the island. Rose disapproved of this form of sponsorship, but she couldn't deny the results. Still, she wondered if even this could possibly have been enough to achieve their goals. There was no way for Rose to check. Swashbuck had ordered most of the needed supplies off-island given Overo's moderate resources. She had even asked her captain if he'd kept a ledger of some sort to keep track of the expenses, but the stallion just laughed her off.
"Why is my boatswain so concerned?" he chuckled, touching her chin with his hoof. "Have faith in your captain!" And with the blood burning her features, Rose could only nod demurely.
It appeared her doubts were for naught anyway. The ship was complete, after all. Their vessel was called The Briny Neighsayer. It was a mighty galleon ship with three great masts, massive stores capable of holding months worth of food and supplies, and enough cannons to defend against the greatest of sea beasts. Galleon ships were not new, but were certainly uncommon. Most ships were no bigger than schooners, as most ponies only ever had to sail to neighboring islands. The Silvershoe Merchants Guild, whom Swashbuck had ordered much of their shipbuilding supplies from, were the only ponies who made regular use of galleon ships. Not even the local militia had one of their own.
The sail date for the Neighsayer had been set for three days from now. Rose savored the looks other ponies gave her--a mixture of bemusement and admiration. No one had expected them to get this far, and yet there sat their ship in the harbor, the most impressive anypony at Overo Island had seen in years.
That evening, Rose was at the far end of the harbor, gazing at her masterpiece. At this hour, the island's mountain cast a long shadow over the piers, cooling the air and giving the space a considerably somber feel. The unicorn closed her eyes and took a breath. Softly, she sang:
Come and go, come and go,
Grab a line colts, heave ho!
The sea she pulls, the sea she flows
Fickle is the love she knows.
Yo ho! reign in that sailor,
Yo ho! reign in that sailor,
Save him from her salty favor
Or lose hooves to her manner
The mare gave a start when a seapony further down the harbor joined her in the last two verses. He was in the rigging of a schooner, and waved a hoof at her.
Smiling, she continued with his shaky baritone complimenting her smooth soprano.
All ye sailors, heave-to,
Stamp a hoof and pull true
The Lady Salt wants her due.
Deny her kiss, and heave-to
Yo ho! reign in that sailor,
Yo ho! reign in that sailor,
Save him from her salty favor
Or lose hooves to her manner
A throat cleared behind her. Rose whipped around with a squeak. Standing there on the pier was Captain Swashbuck. He sat on his haunches, a smirk on his lips as he regarded her with tilted head.
Rose blushed and lowered her gaze. She had convinced herself that she and Swashbuck could never be, not only because she felt plain and unattractive, but also because she reasoned it would be imprudent to strike up a relationship with somepony who was essentially going to be her boss. That didn’t stop her heart from leaping every time she laid eyes on him.
“Rose, have I ever told you that you have the voice of an angel?” he said smoothly.
The unicorn cleared her throat and shook her head. “Um, no. I don’t believe you’ve ever heard me sing before.”
“Well you are lovely at it. It’s a wonder your cutie mark isn’t related to music!”
She pouted at him. “Oh, don’t! It seems every time we meet, you keep trying to suggest I’m meant for something else besides sailing.”
Swashbuck shrugged, his smirk still in place. “I just worry for you, lass.” The stallion stood and slowly drew closer, his eyes turning half-lidded. “Such a sweet, delicate thing like you out at sea with all those ruffians? And for such a long time, at that! Why, should the other seaponies hear your honeyed singing, they might try something…” Swashbuck stopped just scant inches from Rose. “Unscrupulous,” he finished in a murmur.
The mare was shivering, but she resisted stepping back. Willing herself to look the stallion in the eye, she whispered, “You mean to tell me that you would let them?”
Swashbuck chuckled, leaning in to whisper into her ear with hot breath. “Whose to say I wouldn’t be among them?”
That did it. Rose shoved the stallion back, her eyes flaring. “Now see here, Captain! I--”
Swashbuck threw his head back and laughed raucously, cutting her off.
“Peace!” he managed to chuckle out. “Peace, my dear Miss Sweetsail! I was only having fun with you!”
She hmphed and turned away from him, trotting at a brisk pace toward the other end of the harbor. “I do not find it amusing, Captain. What vulgarity!”
Swashbuck followed her, still chortling. “Oh you’ll hear that and worse with these seaponies!” He galloped till he was trotting at her side. “So I would take these next few days to prepare yourself!”
Rose hmphed again, and turned her nose up in the air.
“Er, Rose?”
The mare glanced at Swasbuck sidelong.
The Stallion slowed, a wry grin on his face. “I believe your father is waiting for you at the stairs.”
At this she groaned. Looking, Rose did indeed see her father, Tailor Sweetsail, waiting for her. Her father was sporting a deep scowl.
Rose sighed. There was only one way off the pier, so she had no choice. She had to face her father now. Neither had spoken more than two words to each other in months. Tailor disapproved of her association with Swashbuck, and called their plans, “Foolish.” It stung that he didn’t believe in her, but when she was feeling charitable, she could concede that she was essentially abandoning the family trade. She only wished that her father could understand that cloth work wasn't her calling.
“I think it best if I go the other way,” Swashbuck said with a wink as he backed off. “Don’t forget to meet at The Seadog’s Flagon later!”
Rose nodded at him. “Yes, I will be there, Captain. Good night.”
His gaze lingered on her, his grin shrinking some. “Good night…Miss Sweetsail.” He turned and walked away.
The unicorn swallowed hard, a pit forming in her stomach. She almost hated it when he said her name like that.
Almost.
Rose turned forward again, her eyes resting on her father. With a bracing breath, she approached Tailor, ears turned forward. “Hello, Father,” she greeted reservedly.
“Hello, Daughter,” he returned in kind.
They both gazed at each other in drawn out silence. Tailor was an average-sized stallion with a neatly combed mane and tail, both a similar dark blue to Rose’s. His coat, on the other hoof, was a darker wine red. His unicorn horn was straight and pointed to Rose’s rounded spirals. His cutie mark was that of a needle and thread working through what looked like heavy linen cloth. The Sweetsails had worked with cloth since anypony could remember, their primary income coming from the creation of ship sails, though they dabbled in other practical cloth work, such as upholstery. Tailor took sail work very seriously, devoting much of his time to it, even at the cost of spending time with his family. It was unusual to see him outside of the cloth shop.
With a tilt of his head, Rose’s father murmured, “You’ve been gone a lot these past few days.”
“Yes,” she replied neutrally, though inwardly she braced. This conversation was already looking to head south, fast.
“You know that we have other orders in place. These are very important for our livelihood.”
“Yes, Father, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy.”
Tailor’s scowl deepened, his emerald eyes darkening. “Busy? What, pray tell, could be more important than the well-being of your family?”
“Oh Father, please don’t!” Rose protested, unable to keep her exasperation restrained. “You know as well as I that I am not needed in the shop. You and Mother are perfectly capable of handling whatever orders that are placed upon you. You also know very well why I am busy!”
“Oh do I?” Tailor said dangerously.
“Yes! After all, I’ve only mentioned it dozens of times that the ship I designed from bow to stern with my hooves is finally setting sail at the end of the week!” Rose snorted. “Ah, but of course. I forget. You’re always working, so you must not have heard.”
“Why can’t you see that you are not meant to sail?” Tailor hissed through bared teeth. “Why do you insist on chasing this silly dream?”
“It is my talent, Father! Look at my cutie mark! You cannot keep denying it!”
“All your cutie mark shows is that your talent lies in making sails. You are the best of us all at that, and we need you at the shop.”
She shook her head. "It is unbelievable how narrow-minded you can be!"
Tailor pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "The zebra carpenter is late on the couch frame we were to upholster. The least you could do is--"
Rose shook her head, skirting around her father and up the stairs. “I have something I must do, first. I will have to do work for the shop some other time.”
“Rose…”
“I must go!”
“Rose. Rose! Rose Sweetsail, I am talking to you!”
"Goodbye, Father."
"Do not return home until you've seen Isingo at the carpentry shop, you insolent filly, or I shall lock you out! Do you hear!? Rose!"
But the unicorn did not stop. With tears clouding her vision, she marched up the trail that led into town.
I will show you father. I will show you all. I am meant to be at sea, and nothing will stop me, now that I am so close!