Page 70 of A Flash of Golden Fire

The captain kept smiling until other members of the crew began to complain.

“It’ll take more than that for me to keep my killing arm still.”

“I’ll not be polite for five. Make it ten.”

“Ten per cent! Ten per cent!”

I gazed about me at the men who adored Captain Martin, now complaining about staying their hands for a five per cent extra take. I couldn’t fathom their reasoning.

Except that Captain Martin didn’t look surprised or alarmed. He frowned as if giving the situation much thought. And in that moment, I knew that he’d started with five per cent because he’d anticipated the men wanting more.

He was a clever fucking man, my captain.

“Well. You drive a very hard bargain, you lot. Ten per cent of my share?”

“Ten!”

“Ten per cent! We won’t stop for naught but that.”

“Wouldn’t be worth it for five.”

The captain nodded and said very soberly, “All right. Ten per cent of my share, distributed evenly amongst you if you can keep the bloodshed to a minimum. And try not to kill anyone.”

“Aye, but can I injure a man? There ain’t no issue with maiming, is there?”

“If necessary, I suppose I’ll allow it. But please, not a leg. An arm gone, that can challenge a man. A leg gone, and that’s a much more serious matter, especially at sea.”

There were concessions of agreement.

I stood there, mouth agape, as the reality of the situation became clear. I was on a ship full of bloodthirsty men, whatever they might be called, who were going to attempt to be moderate in their mode of attack. I should have felt grateful, and I did. But all the talk about maiming and the idea of anyone losing an arm or a leg by sword made me queasy.

Captain Martin came down off the platform. He went to the rail, his spyglass in hand. He’d requested that I stay close, which was no hardship, so I walked over to stand next to him.

“That was very clever,” I said, crossing my arms and looking out to sea, where our quarry sailed steadily in the distance.

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

“It’s not your face I’m thinking about most nights,” I said with full-on sincerity.

He looked at me with his eyes raised as if he couldn’t believe my cheek.

I cracked a grin, and he matched it.

“Ah, Rooster. For once, I wish I wasn’t a privateer captain.”

I couldn’t hide my astonishment.

“How now? Not a privateer captain? Don’t be daft. What other line of work could you get into?”

He laughed. “Well, now, I’ve a mind to try my hand at blacksmithing when all of this is said and done.”

“Blacksmithing!” I pictured him in a leather apron, covered in grease, standing before an anvil, with a pair of tongs holding a red-hot piece of iron. Hmm, perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. “But you love the sea!”

“Do I?” he asked with amusement.

“I thought so,” I admitted. “Don’t you?”

“Aye. I do. But a part of me yearns for stability, Rooster. Not now. Perhaps not for years yet. But someday.”

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