“What do you think of this?” asked Gil, donning a black silk top hat. “Or this?” he said, as he switched it for a feathered creation.
She ignored him, and continued to root through the racks. Maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea to let Gil on their crew. He seemed to be about three screws short of a lightbulb, honestly. But then again, he seemed very enthusiastic about doing her bidding, which was never a bad thing.
“Uma! This one, right?” he asked, strutting up in a white ten-gallon cowboy hat.
“No,” she said flatly, trying on a hat of her own and considering her reflection in the shop’s mirror.
“How about this one?” he said, putting on a pointy velvet hat.
“No,” she said again, picking through a deep selection of tricorn pirate hats that would suit any aspiring buccaneer. She tried on a couple, but nothing was quite right.
“I think I’ll go with this one,” said Gil, placing a brown leather hat on his head. “Looks good?”
“Not bad,” she had to admit.
“I’ll take this bunch,” he told the sales clerk, motioning to a big pile by the counter of all the hats he’d tried on. “They’re on sale. You find anything?”
She shook her head. “I’ll meet you on the ship,” she said.
“Yup, see you there.”
Discouraged, Uma left the shop, annoyed that Gil had been able to find something while she was empty-handed.
“What’s wrong, dearie, give us a smile,” barked a goon by the wharf.
“What about I give you a smile,” said Uma, removing her cutlass and placing it just under his chin. He yelped in fear and she kicked him away, growling to herself.
Just as she turned the corner, she spotted the hat she’d been looking for. Crushed brown leather with a metal-studded brim and decorated with seashells. Sassy and stylish. It would look mighty fine with her cutlass and sword. “Yo-ho-ho!” she called. The lass wearing the hat turned.
“What do you want for that hat?” asked Uma.
“This one?” the girl squeaked, pointing to the hat on her head.
“No, not that, the other one you’re wearing—of course that one!” Uma snapped, her patience wearing thin.
“Okay…” said the girl hesitantly, removing it from her head and holding it out.
Uma studied it, admiring its craftsmanship and detail. It really was a fine pirate’s hat.
“You can have it,” the girl said suddenly.
“Oh? What do you want for it?” asked Uma.
“Nothing! I don’t want anything from you!” she protested. “I want to keep whatever I have, my voice, my legs, my soul, my humanity! Here, take it!” She shoved the hat forcefully into Uma’s outstretched hand.
“Oh! Good,” Uma said, taking it happily. “Did you make this?”
“Yes,” said the young pirate, looking sad to have now lost the hat. “I washed the leather five times and picked all the seashells, then I stitched the band with a grosgrain ribbon….”
Uma shrugged; all her interest had waned now that the hat was hers. She wasn’t the type to make conversation anyway.
“Nice hat,” said Harry, when she arrived at the ship.
Uma grinned. “Nice ship,” she said, watching pirates cut down planks to the right length, nailing boards, and threading the sail.
“Sweet, isn’t it?” he drawled, scratching his cheek with his hook. “At least once we patch up the holes, fix the mast, and see to the anchor, we’ll be set to go. I’ve got the crew working day and night.”
Uma crossed her arms, hoping she appeared as fierce as she thought she did. It was hard work looking this awesome. “Good job,” she said to Harry.
“Good job, Captain?” he said hopefully.
“As if. You work for me, remember? Do I have to keep reminding you? I’m captain, you’re first mate,” said Uma, pointing a finger and stabbing his chest with it.
“First date if you’re lucky,” said Harry with a wink, pulling on his collar and strutting a little.
“Shut up,” said Uma with a laugh. “And see to that sail.”
Harry swaggered away chuckling. Uma knew, try as she might, she couldn’t hurt his feelings. It was all part of the game of question-and-rejection they’d played forever. But a few minutes later, Harry swiveled on his boots and returned to her side, leaning in closely. “Uma, darling,” he said, in his rough brogue. “I just need to ask again—how are we going to find that thing in the water?”
“Leave that to me,” said Uma. “Just get this ship ready.” She gave him a confident smile, but she was none too pleased by that pesky reminder. How were they going to find that trident?
The answer came later that day—at the Fish and Chips Shoppe, no less. Uma was taking a break in the kitchen with Cook, who was feeding Flotsam and Jetsam, the two electric eels who had been Ursula’s sidekicks during her glory days. The eels were swimming in their tank, below an old portrait of Ursula that hung in the middle of the kitchen, as if to remind everyone whom they worked for.
“Mama was really something, wasn’t she? Back then?” said Uma. Flotsam and Jetsam nodded in their aquarium, slithering over each other.
Cook, a swarthy woman with messy red hair who always wore an ill-fitting white peasant dress with a red collar, had a faraway look in her eye. “She really was,” she mourned as she cleaned a fish and saved the guts for stew.
Uma wondered what it was like, living under the sea, ruling the waves. “Those days will come back,” she said.
“You think so?” Cook said hopefully.
Uma nodded decisively. “I know so. I plan to make it happen. Finish what Maleficent started, get off this island, and wreak vengeance on our enemies!” She stared intently at the golden seashell around Ursula’s neck.
“Hey, do you know whatever happened to Mom’s necklace?”
Cook squinted at the picture. “It got destroyed; when Prince Eric defeated your mum it shattered in a thousand pieces.”
“I know that. I mean what happened to it after that?” asked Uma.
“After?” Cook frowned, setting a pot to boil and adding sea slime to the broth.
“It must be gone forever,” said Uma sadly.
“Hold on. I remember now,” said Cook, wiping her hands on her dirty apron. “It was too dangerous to have a thing like that just lying around, even broken. The pieces were collected and confiscated. They were supposed to go to that museum in Auradon. We heard they found the last two pieces just the other month. But then the embargo happened, so they’re stuck here,” said Cook, cutting up more rotten potatoes for curly fries.
Uma was intrigued. “Here? On the Isle? Where?”
“Who knows? We heard that professor, Yen Sid, was the one in charge of it. If anyone has them, he does,” said Cook with a shrug.
“Professor Yen Sid has the pieces to my mother’s seashell necklace?”
Cook nodded.
“Well, what’s it matter anyway? There’s no magic on the island,” Uma lamented.
Cook considered that. “True. But just because there’s no magic around doesn’t mean there’s no power left in it.”