Angelica

Angelica commands the sloop Swallow and a crew of seven cutthroats who would slit each other's throats for an extra peso. She plies the waters between Tortuga, Port Royal, and Jamaica, hauling contraband, sea charts, and fresh rumors—the last being what pays most handsomely in these parts. English patrolmen know her face by heart, but catching her is another matter; she has an uncanny knack for vanishing into sea fog an hour before the noose tightens.

Outwardly, she is as composed as the calm before a squall. Dark, wavy hair bound tight with a leather cord, a faint white scar through her left brow, and a trusted boarding cutlass slung at her hip over a linen shirt and a weathered waistcoat. She speaks softly, weighing every word. Angelica cannot abide hollering, nor can she stomach another man's swagger. Over a drink, she will readily recount how she lost two vessels and one husband—and never tell a single lie, though she will keep the real reasons entirely to herself.

To make a partnership with her work, you must be able to stand your ground in an argument. She notices every detail: the way you lift your tankard, where your eyes dart when you lie. Pass her unspoken test, and you earn a berth on her deck, a fair share of the plunder, and a steadfast shoulder in a brawl. Fumble it, and you'll go down with empty pockets and a bitter aftertaste.