Jo sat on the deck, her feet propped up against a barrel. They had docked the Goddess just off the coast of Cuba, careful to use the craggy outcroppings as cover. They were waiting for the sun to set, then William would take a few men ashore to abduct new crew members, while everyone else would stay behind to guard the ship. Jo and Will had devised a whistling system, that hopefully would alert each other of any trouble. The ship’s cat, a tabby with a fat belly from all the rodents she ate, rubbed against Jo’s arm. Distracted, Jo scratched the cat behind the ears. One of the sailor’s began to sing.

Oh Sally she's the gal that I splice nearly
Her lips is red and her hair is curly
Oh Sally she'n my 'Badian beauty
Sally gal she know her duty
Oh Sally she'n my bright mulatta
Sally gal she do what she ought to
Oh seven long years I courted Sally
But I don't care for her dilly dally
So I signed onboard of a New Bedford whaler
When I come home she was married to a tailor.

Some of the men laughed at his song. Pegg puffed on his pipe, blowing blue smoke into the violet sky. He blew another puff of smoke, before he began to sing his own shanty.

When I was a lad in a fishing town
My old man said to me:
"You can spend your life, your jolly life
Sailing on the sea.
You can search the world for pretty girls
‘Til your eyes grow weak and dim,
But don't go fishing for a mermaid, son
If you don't know how to swim"

'Cause her hair was green as seaweed
Her skin was blue and pale
I loved that girl with all my heart
I only liked the upper part
I did not like the tail.

Jo couldn’t help but chuckle at the song. Several men glanced in her direction, as if they had forgotten she was even there. Pegg used his thumb to smash out the dying embers of his tobacco, knocking the ash out on his wooden leg. For a long while, there was no sound, but the waves crashing against the cliffs. Feeling restless, Jo stood up and stretched.
She crossed over to the portside, watching as the sun began to settle into the ocean, the rays tinting the clouds pink and orange. Samuel appeared at her side. “The men be lighting the lamps.”
“No, douse the lamps. No light!” Jo whirled on them.
“Douse the lamps!” Samuel relayed the order.
William lowered one of the longboats into the sable water. Jo felt overly nervous as he swung himself over the side of the brig and down the rope ladder. “Just get a few, stout men. Preferably some that speak English. But if you’re facing trouble, abandon the mission.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were worried about me.” William smiled up at her.
Jo frowned. “I just don’t want to be losing the few crew hands I have.” Angry, she stormed into her cabin and slammed the door. “How dare that gap-toothed, lily sniffing fish head! To think that I, that I were to care,” she said it distastefully, “about him! Why, I wouldn’t care if he got the Foul disease!”
Irate, she rummaged in a small cabinet by her hammock and pulled out a bottle of port. Her father had had it for years, always saving it for a special occasion. And while this wasn’t a moment to be celebrating, Jo needed something a little stronger than rum. She uncorked the bottle and took a hearty swig. Wiping the back of her mouth with her sleeve, she crossed over to the bookshelves. Pulling Milton’s Paradise Lost off the shelf, she took another gulp of the booze.
She unlocked the black chest and pulled out her father’s letters. Perhaps she could fine some sort of clue in them. Settling down in the red chair, she began to read the first letter.
My Dearest Camille,
Like a lily among thorns, is my darling among the maidens. Oh, Camille, how I earn for you. Life at sea is harsh and I fear I will lose my life to this untamable beast. The only thing I have to keep me sane, is you, my beloved. I remember your lips, like a scarlet ribbon.
Jo threw the letter down, frustrated. She shuffled through the letters, until she came upon one that did not appear to be a love letter. It was dated January 8th, 1708. Jo remembered that year, distinctly, because that was the year her father had brought her upon the Dark Goddess. It was not addressed to anyone.
I have retrieved Josette from Paris. Her Grandmother was not willing to give her up. I am ashamed to admit this, but I stole her away from her bed, in the dead of night. We shall make the voyage back to Chevara, as soon as I have retrieved the map. I cannot wait to reunite with you, my love. It shall be a joyous day, when we are together again.
Oh, my darling, how much more pleasing is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your perfume than any spice! Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride.
Confusion made Jo’s stomach roll over like a cap-sized boat. Jo’s mother had died giving birth to her, so who was this strange woman her father so desired to reunite with? Had he not called her his bride? Had he kept a second wife, this whole time? Jo felt betrayed, as if the adultery had been committed against her. But that was silly, he had clearly not fallen in love with this woman until after her mother had died. So it wasn’t adultery, was it?
Jo tipped the bottle back and gulped down the liquor until her stomach burned. Coughing, she slammed it back down, glaring at the letter. Picking it up, she re-read it. He had mentioned a map. Was it the same map that he had hidden in the chest? What of this foreign place called Chevara? Frustrated, Jo began to twirl her ring. The opal glimmered beautifully in the inadequate candle light. Here she had read these letters, hoping to answer her questions, and instead she had just unveiled more mysteries.
A wave of nausea washed over her and Jo sprinted to the door. Flinging it open, she raced to the portside, reaching the rail just in time. Jo vomited until her stomach was empty and she was left to dry heave. Tears blinded her vision and she felt vulnerable. She hated it.
“It’s alright lass.” Pegg put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Even the most hardened sea rat has a touch o’ sea-sickness.”
Jo wiped at her eyes. “Pegg, how long did you know my Father?”
Pegg leaned back against the rail, staring up at the star smattered sky. “I figure, it ‘twas three years after you were born. Your father saved me, ya know.”
“He did?” Jo spit, trying to rid her mouth of the bitter taste.
“Aye, my ship was caught in a hurricane and we shipwrecked on some godforsaken island. Nothing but sand. We thought we were going to die out there. Aye, we nearly did.”
“Then my father showed up.” She wiped her chin with her sleeve.
“Aye, I swore an oath that I’d serve him for the rest of my life.”
Jo stared out into the night. Although, the sky was glittering with stars, there was no moon. It made the darkness almost suffocating, as if the absence of light was trying to push it’s way into Jo’s body. She twirled her opal ring, slipping it off past her dirty fingernail and then slid it back on. “Did he, did he ever mention another woman. I mean, other than my mother?”
Pegg raised an eyebrow. “Well, I ain’t goin’ to lie. Your father was no saint. He had his share of lady friends.”
Jo looked down at her scuffed boots. “Was he in love with any of them?”
“What’s this all about?” Pegg asked, after a moment of silence. When Jo didn’t answer, he responded. “Nay, lassie, your Father’s heart always belonged to your Mother. Well, that is until you came along.”
Jo let out a sigh of relief. “Have you ever heard of an island by the name of Chevara?”
“You be full of questions tonight, Jo.” Pegg laughed. He thought hard. “Nay, can’t say I ever heard tell of such an island.”
Jo blinked, trying to determine if she had seen a longboat in the distance. She was almost positive that she had caught the glimmer of oars being raised out of the water before they were dug back in.
Suddenly, a shrill whistle broke the night’s silence. Jo had been right, she had seen the longboat that contained her small crew. In pursuit were two rowboats, filled with Spanish soldiers. Her stomach leaped into her mouth and her heartbeat was like deafening thunder in her ears.
“On deck, all hands!” Jo cried out. “Drop the mainsail!”
“To your stations you sluggards! Man the yards!” Pegg yelled.
Footsteps pounded against the wood as men scurried to carry out orders. A gunshot rang out, and Jo whirled to see if her men had been hit. Smoke rose from the first longboat, and Jo heard angry shouts from the Spanish row boats. William and Joshua were rowing with all of their might, as Freddie fired off another shot. A Spaniard cried out, before slipping overboard.
“You be desertin’ the men?” Pegg asked, as a wind grabbed hold of the open sails.
“Not if I can help it.” Jo replied. “Lower the kedge!” She watched as Heng lowered the small anchor, used to keep the ship steady. If need be, the anchor would be easy to lift at a moment’s notice. As the longboat drew closer, Jo called out new orders. “Lower Jacob’s ladder! Ready the guns!”
Several men hurried over to the port, propping their guns against the lip of the ship. Jo would have to abandon the longboat, but she figured it was worth the sacrifice, if they could escape. Just as William grabbed for the rung of the rope ladder, the Spanish began to barrage them with gun fire.
“Fire!” Jo screamed, raising her cutlass. Sparks lit the night sky, the burnt smoke from the gun powder stinging her nostrils. “Reload, reload!” She cocked her pistol and fired off a round, although at this range it was probably useless. William climbed aboard, dragging with him a stocky Spaniard. Behind him were two more prisoners and Joshua. Freddie and an African brought up the rear.
“Weigh anchor!” Jo cried out. “Will! Heave the rudder hard to starboard.”
“Hard to starboard!” Pegg echoed.
One of the prisoners darted for the side of the boat, calling out in Spanish. “Pegg, would you shut that son of a biscuit eater up!” she called out. She watched as Pegg knocked the man over the head with an empty rum bottle, the glass shattering into a million green shards. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
“We’re putting distance ‘tween us!” Samuel called from the bow.
“Aye.” Pegg grinned. “The wind be with us!”
“Set our heading for a northwest direction!” Jo said.
“For Tortuga!” William cried out.
“Tortuga!” The crew echoed.

Hi there. Just a note, I haven't read the chapters previous to this so I will not be commenting on the plot. Just minor details I noticed

When you mention a ship's name, it must always be italicized. I noticed you didn't italicize the Dark Goddess whenever you mentioned her name.

Life at sea is harsh and I fear I will lose my life to this untamable beast, they call the sea.

I would nix the bolded part as it is repitive and you really don't need it in there.

“Pegg, would you shut that son of a biscuit eater up!” She called out.

She doesn't need to be capitilized as it isn't the beginning of a new sentence. My mom uses "Son of a biscuit eater" whenever she doesn't want to swear

~~~~~

Just those simple little errors is all I noticed. I enjoy all the description you have throughout the chapter. I love when there is plenty of description! Makes me want to read all the others!

Your characters are all quite realistic...and shibby. I forgot what all I was going to say. Well, I guess all I can say now is I enjoyed the songs the sailors were singing. Especially the one about the mermaid

It reminds me of Pirates of the Caribean!

Meadow

Hi Moriah,

Per your request, I’ve read this story all the way through from the beginning.

Overall, I’m feeling a little ambivalent. It’s easy to read, your prose is fairly clean and the story is clear (edit: and I forgot to mention I enjoyed the world-building and historical detail). But the characterisation seems flat to me, the dialogue is a bit clunky, and the plot consistently shies away from real conflict. At the moment, I wouldn’t turn the page. You have the bones of a good story here -- it just needs more work.

Characterisation and girl power

I think my key problem with this story is the characterisation. Characters tend to have names, but no personalities. The only character with at least two dimensions is Jo -- everyone else is just a name and maybe one quality. Pegg is loyal. William is interested in Jo. Er ... that’s it. Nobody seems to have any uniqueness, any tricks or traits, anything to make them stand out. So in 12,000 words, that’s only one character with any personality.

And Jo has a few problems. Mainly, I feel like she’s a girl-power cliche: the girl who’s just as good as any man (copyright Tamora Pierce). She seems to be able to do anything she puts her mind to, and do it better than anyone else, even when that doesn’t make any sense. Often I found myself wondering how exactly Jo has the experience and strength and skill to be so wonderful at everything. In her first real fight she kills four men without taking a scratch and saves William in the process. She captains a ship with exactly no experience. Despite being described as “slim” and presumably having pitiful upper-body strength she manages to intimidate a pirate. And on and on. There’s nothing Jo can’t pick up for the first time and be amazing at it.

This girl-power thing is hurting Jo rather than helping her. By making her into a perfect female character who can do everything brilliantly, you’ve made her unrealistic. Tamora Pierce’s girl-power champion Alanna worked as a character because she had weaknesses and flaws she had to work around. Your Jo doesn’t have any.

I also feel like Jo’s physical attractiveness is being substituted for uniqueness as a character. It’s easy to tell the reader that a character is beautiful -- difficult to show the reader that a character is compelling and unique. It’s easy to present a character who’s lusted after for her beauty -- difficult to present a character who’s loved for her compelling personality. Don’t use beauty as a crutch here.

I wish that Jo was a more rounded character, one with emotional and physical imperfections, who had to fight and overcome her own weaknesses rather than just automatically being awesome.

Romance

I was surprised in chapter 6 to stumble over the start of a romance between Jo and William. It’s surprising because William has had only a handful of lines and basically no characterisation, and then all of a sudden we’ve jumped into his viewpoint and he’s pining over how attractive Jo is. In nearly 12,000 words, we haven’t been told anything about what William is like as a person. We’re told that he’s attracted to Jo, but what’s he like? Brave or cowardly? Nice or mean? Bold or cautious? Witty or serious? Does he have any interests, skills or hobbies? I know more about his appearance (blond) than his personality (nothing).

I note that in this chapter 6 scene William is only thinking about Jo’s physical attractiveness, rather than her personality, which also makes me concerned about this romance. Is the reader being intentionally led to think that William is only attracted to Jo for her looks? Does he fall for every attractive woman? Will he dump her for the next one who comes along?

Romances live or die on characterisation. William needs a personality, and he needs reasons to be interested in Jo other than her “voluptuous peach-coloured lips”.

Earning victory through conflict

The second most important problem that I’m seeing is unearned victories. The usual arc of a story is that a protagonist faces conflict, which they then overcome to earn victory. The greater the conflict, the harder the protagonist has to fight, the better the victory they earn. But Jo seems to win a lot without actually having to fight.

At the end of chapter 2, we’re told that Jo has “seven long days to retain her Captaincy, smother any whisper of rebellion, keep forty-eight bars of gold hidden, deal with her Father’s death and remain alive herself”. That’s setting up an awesome conflict! Jo is going to have to fight hard to beat the mutiny, keep the gold and get to port safely. Except the next we hear about this, Jo is already in port. No mutiny. No drama about the gold. No conflict. Nothing. We just skipped right over any difficulty and straight to the victory of getting into port.

All through the story we get moments like this. Jo worries about whether the men will object to her receiving the biggest share of the plunder. This sets up the expectation of conflict -- somebody will object, she’ll have to overcome the problem, and she’ll earn success. Except the conflict peters out, she doesn’t have to lift a finger and she takes the biggest share anyway.

Then there’s a moment when six sailors approach Jo. Normally, this would be the point at which a mutiny is declared, because that ups the conflict and forces the protagonist to fight harder. But instead, the sailors pledge their loyalty to her, even the ones who’d seemed angry about her captaincy. Jo wonders why, and as a reader, I also wonder why. How did Jo earn this? What did she do to deserve it? What conflict did she overcome? Nothing. She didn’t have to fight, so I’m not emotionally invested in her success.

This problem is consistent throughout the story. The conflict is under-sold. Challenges you promise us, like the mutiny, never show up. And the protagonist doesn’t have to fight for what she gets.

That’s a serious problem, because you’re avoiding what could be some truly awesome moments here. Imagine what this story could be like if Jo really did have to fight tooth and nail to keep her ship. If she was facing a mutiny, what would she do? Buy her crew’s loyalty with higher shares of the plunder? Stage a faked major crisis to which she has the only answer? Embark on an ambitious programme of stealing and plundering? Shame them by being braver and tougher than they are? But she never has to do any of this. We miss out on opportunities to learn more about her character through her choices. And she never gets to prove herself both to the other characters and to the reader.

You might find it helpful to read this blog post about triumphs, because it reflects what I’m seeing here -- moments of success that aren’t earned by the preceding conflict.

More conflict = more awesome.

The opening

I think the opening is hampered a little bit by a common problem: throat-clearing. That is, the author spends some time clearing their throat before the plot kicks in. A character who is waiting for something, or sitting and thinking, or just not doing anything is usually a sign of throat-clearing.

In the first 350 words, Jo thinks about her father, imagines the drama that must be happening outside (while the reader is stuck inside the room away from the action), pictures what will happen when her father takes the ship, etc. That’s all. It’s pretty static -- we’re locked inside the protagonist’s head while all the fun goes on somewhere else. I wonder if you might cut this section down a bit and focus on the action: Jo’s escape from the cabin.

Bear in mind that at this stage the reader needs only enough information to follow the opening. You’re working with a setting already familiar to the millions of people who’ve seen Pirates of the Caribbean, and so you can just sketch this situation for us and allow our imaginations to fill in the rest. So ditch everything unnecessary and focus on what’s important. Jo is important. Her father is important. Pegg? Not important right now. The fate awaiting the Spanish crew when they’re taken prisoner? Also not important. (It becomes important when Jo executes them instead of doing what her father would have done.)

Prioritise here.

Dialogue

I feel like your dialogue strays into Hollywood territory -- cliched lines that I’ve heard in a bunch of generic Hollywood blockbusters. For example:

“Kill them all.”
“You heard her, she’s the Captain now.”
“I’d die before I let any harm come to you.”
Dying parent tells child that they’re proud of them.
New leader tells lieutenant that they must know that the lieutenant is loyal to them. Lieutenant assures them of their loyalty.

Any of these could have come from a dozen films. There’s nothing unique or different about them to tell me that they came from your work specifically. They tell us nothing about the characters speaking them. So the dialogue feels generic, and you’re missing out on a lot of opportunities to present characterisation through dialogue.

I’d also beware of trying to crowbar these lines in where they may not fit. At times I felt like they were quite clunky -- like you’d put them in because they’re the expected lines in these scenes, not because they necessarily fit. For example, would a man dying of having a hole blasted through him speak in complete, grammatical, coherent sentences instead of going into shock? Would a hardened pirate really say “I’d die before I let any harm come to you”? I’m trying to picture these lines actually being said, and I’m coming to the conclusion that they probably wouldn’t be.

Dialogue tags

I wonder if you might benefit from looking at the dialogue tags again. Here are the tags in the opening scene:

“Pegg!” Jo cried out, her voice clogged with emotion, as she knelt beside her dying Father.
“Get the surgeon!” She yelled, fighting the tears.
“The black chest in my quarters,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Aye,” Pegg replied in his Scottish brogue.
“Jo is the Captain of the Dark Goddess.” He tried to cry out so all could hear, but it came out as a mere whisper.
“You’re the Captain!” Josette protested her voice cracking.
“Yes, I only want to make you proud!” Jo cried clasping his limp hand.
“Pegg,” her voice sounded feeble as she searched for her courage, “my Father’s body, take it to his quarters. Have the men assess the damages to the Dark Goddess. Take inventory, we will take as much loot as our cargo will hold.”
“Kill them all,” Jo replied, feeling her compassionate soul being quickly replaced by a dark void.

The dialogue tags in general are quite cluttered. Note how many said-bookisms (words used in place of “said”) you use here: cried, yelled, whispered, replied, protested, etc. There are also a lot of adjectives and describing phrases: voice clogged with emotion, fighting the tears, hoarsely, Scottish brogue, voice cracking, etc. The dialogue tags are becoming quite obtrusive -- particularly as many of them are unnecessary. When someone says “Kill them all”, the reader doesn’t need a whole lot of explanation.

Think about streamlining here. If the dialogue conveys the right emotion, you don’t need a verb and an adverb and then a long phrase to repeat that emotion. You can trust the reader.

Conclusion

Okay, I think I’m done. Ultimately, while I found this smooth to read, I think the writing can be polished a little, the dialogue and characterisation need a little and a lot of work respectively, and the story could be much improved by pulling fewer punches with the conflict.

I’ve also attached the story with line edits.

Hope this helps.

Cheers,
Karsten