Chapter 27: Do What You Must

Keaton

Robbie rolled the cigarette between his fingers in the shelter of his coat, tucking it behind his ear as we watched the rusted fishing boat approach. I gave Robbie a look, tilting my head toward the vessel.

“Looks like only a fishin’ boat, Cap.”

“Aye, but in such shallow waters, and in this storm?” I turned my head to look back at the shore of the small cove that was currently our refuge from the raging open waters. Rain was pounding the decks, bouncing off the wood panels and rolling off the sails above our heads. The thick trees hanging over the sandy cliff face were inundated with rain, their thick leaves hanging toward the murky green water.

“She’s headed right for us, Cap.”

I sighed, smacking my lips and pushing away from the railing, giving the approaching ship one last look before clapping him on the shoulder. “Guess we’ll see what her crew wants then, shall we?”

I descended the stairs to the lower deck, nodding at my crew as I passed them. We were anchored, the sails drawn in and the crew at leisure, at least for the moment. We would not be docking in Valoria tonight, not with twelve-foot swells preventing us from crossing the channel.

Young Pete stood at the lower railing, watching the ship with a pair of binoculars as it rocked in the waves, “They’re dropping a rowboat!” His voice was edged with excitement as he leaned over the railing.

“You’ll fall in,” I said, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him off the railing. “That’s a right way to die, lad.”

“I was just-” He paused, forgetting himself. “Yes, Captain.”

I patted him on the chest and turned toward the railing, watching as three men began to battle the waves in the small skiff, their oars beating helplessly against the unforgiving sea.

“No shifting on the boat, remember?” I turned to Young Pete, the newest member of our crew. He nodded, his head bobbing up and down as he did so. He was just a pup, really, freshly twenty-one and full of the angst and adrenaline all young men possessed when they finally came into their powers. I never took pollywogs so young, but Pete had nearly begged on his knees for the opportunity.

Looking for his mate, most likely. What better way to find a mate than by mopping floors on a smuggling ship for a few months?

I turned to Robbie, my second in command. He was leaning on the railing, watching the three men struggling to close in on the Persephone.

“Should we go out and help em’,you think?”

“No,” I said dryly, wiping rainwater from my brow. “We’ll only lower the ladder for them when they get close.”

What in the hell did these three fools want?

It took them nearly an hour to reach us, all of them red-faced and steaming with heat when they finally climbed over the railing and put their water logged boots down on the ship.

An older man stepped forward, breathing heavily as he reached into the pocket of his coat. He was an “Old Salt,” someone who had been working on ships for the majority of his life. He walked like it, talked like it, and had the signature deep tan of someone who spent their days working in the salty, harsh reflection of the sun coming off the water.

“I don’t think so. pal.” Robbie drew a long knife from his belt, holding it out in front of him. The two younger men who had accompanied the old man on the trek shifted uncomfortably, wariness etched across their sunburnt faces.

“Mean you no harm,” the old man said as he pulled a damp parcel out of his coat, holding it up in surrender. “Someone paid a pretty penny to have this delivered to you in this shitstorm.”

“Aye, would you look at that? It’s only the post.” I took the parcel from the old man as I looked around at my crew, who were standing in a semicircle around the three men. Muffled laughter rang out, drowned out by the rain. “Take the boys to the galley, feed em’,” I said, motioning to my crew.

The old man nodded to his companions to heed my orders and they reluctantly followed the crew through the wide doors leading to the lower levels of the ship. I motioned for the old man to follow me to my own quarters.copy right hot novel pub