Within seconds, the door flew open, and a stranger burst onto the scene, pointing an accusing finger directly at Peterson. “Nay, ye landlubber! -I- be the first mate aboard the ship with no name, come hell or high water!”

In a flash, Peterson was on his feet, quickly striding up to the arrogant stranger. “And just who do you think-” He froze. Those boots, the tattered disguise, the way the hefty man was chuckling underneath of his shroud.

Peterson’s frown morphed into a quick smirk.

“Murphey?”

At the sound of his name, the man threw off his disguise, presenting a roly-poly, red-faced sailor whose belly bounced up and down with laughter. “Surprise!” he shouted jovially, nearly jumping into Peterson’s arms. “I knew I’d find you drowning yourself in a bottle of whiskey in this slip-shot excuse for a saloon.”

Chuckling, Peterson put his arms around his long-lost friend in a clutching embrace before taking his shoulders back to get a good look at him. “Murphey, you old sea dog, time has not touched you. How do you do it?”

The middle-aged pirate laughed, revealing his glistening gold tooth where his left front one had once been and patted his round stomach, hard as a rock. “It must be the bacon at every meal.”

Pete let out a loud, strange laugh, the kind a person only lets out when in the presence of someone who’s seen them lose face before and would not condemn them for doing so at a silly, otherwise unimpressive banter. Pete grinned; the release was wonderful. “So what’re you doing in these parts, y’landlubber?” Pete demanded, leading him over to the bar.

Murphey gave a partially toothless grin as he sat down beside his old friend. “Well, I heard you were setting sail for the Harper Islands,” he said enthusiastically. He ordered a mug of mead. “Couldn’t let my old shipmate go on a voyage without his first mate, now could I, lad?”

Pete’s blinks fluttered in surprise. “You heard about us?”

Murphey paused. “Well, of course.” He took a sip of the mead and made a face, pushing it away. “But Peter, if you don’t want me to come just say the word, and you know I won’t be a bother about it.”

“Hm?” Pete was thrown from his thoughts. “No, no!” He grinned once more, but it was measured this time. “I want you to be there.” He gave Murphey a solid pat on the back. “I couldn’t have an adventure without you, you know that.” Pete grinned mischievously. “Who’s gonna pull my rear end out of the water when I fall off out of the crows nest?”

Murphey laugh seemed to explode, simliar to Pete’s burst before. “We thought you were long gone after that happened,” he shot back, his eyes filling with nostalgic light. “Oo! Or when old Galliway...” Murphy couldn’t get the words out he was laughing so hard at the memory, and even though he hadn’t explained himself, Pete followed Murphey’s example, infected by his friend’s gleeful enthusiasm. Murphey had to work to get the words out between his fits of laughter. “Old Galliway...he tried to catch that parrot he was trying to train when it escaped...” Pete’s face turned beat red, the memory playing through in his mind, he nodded unable to acknoweldge it any other way. “And it just kept chanting the only thing we taught him...” His voice changed parrot. “‘Galliway’s an ugly bastard, Galliway’s an ugly bastard!’”

His laughter a mixture of drunken and geniune, Pete’s body fell onto the bar, shaking gleefully, cackling too hard to speak.

Blinking at the two grown men, Noah blinked and took a long chug of the alcohol in front of him. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

* * * * *

Pete and Murphey talked and laughed their way into the wee hours of the morning before either even thought of heading back to get some shut-eye at the town inn. But soon, the alcohol took its effect and light-headed the two agreed that if they were going to be up for the ship’s set-sail, they would need to call it a night.

Pete grinned and set an affectionate hand on Murphey’s shoulder. “It’s so good to see you so well, old friend...”

Murphey chuckled, putting back on his worn-in sailor’s hat. “Likewise,” he returned, his eyes shining. Together, the two left a few coins on the bartender’s table and prepared to leave in order to get rest for the morning’s voyage.

Noah blinked. “Captain Peterson,” he called.

“Hm?” Pete asked in a grunt, his eyes becoming intoxicatingly blootshot.

“We still didn’t find a helsman for the set to sea,” Noah replied.

Suddenly, Ronan, the boy who had fought Noah not thre hours ago, rose up from the ground, saw the captain, and in his rush, fell to his feet once more. “Wait!” he called out to them before they left. “Wait, Captain Peterson!”

Surprised, Pete shifted. “Who goes there?” he asked, a confused smile on his face, and turning saw Ronan, his nose bloody, his face beaten, and his smile giddy. He chuckled slightly. “Son, normally a good beating will knock the drunkenness out of a sailor’s system, but yours got only three or four times worse. Learn to quit while you‘re ahead. Fall back down and pretend that you‘re unconscious.” Ronan cocked his head, confused. In response, Pete nodded to the ground. “If you know what’s good for you you’ll fall back down now before I do it for you.”

“No, sir, you don‘t understand,” he quickly said after the captain was finished.

Before Pete could say anything, Murphey picked the boy up by his the back of his collar to face him. “Boy, did you hear what this big man just told you?”

“Yes, yes, sir, but I-”

“He told you to fall back down on the ground,” Murphey repeated, using a teacher’s tone. “Now, do you see this man?” Murphey swung Ronan to face Pete, who looked none too pleased.

Ronan gulped audibly. “Yes, sir, but I-”

“How big is this man?” Murphey interjected.

Ronan looked him up and down nervously. “Very big, sir.”

“That’s right,” Murphey agreed. “And how big are you?”

Not taking his eyes off Pete, Ronan replied with a certainty to his tone. “Not very big, sir.”

“That’s right,” Murphey repeated with a smile, pleased to have gotten his point across. “Now, this very big man, as you put it, is going to knock your teeth out and put them on a necklace with all the other teeth he’s taken from not very big boys such as yourself.” Murphey lifted Ronan up to face him once more. “Now, let’s say he just does that, and he croaks somewhere out in the jungle from heat stroke. Do you want some jungle-frequenting historian to pick up that necklace off his dusty skeleton and label your teeth as the teeth of a little piss-ant that got the snot knocked out of him by this very big man in a bar fight?”

“No, sir,” Ronan quickly replied, shaking his head back and forth vigorously.

Murphey’s voice became even more urgent. “You don’t want to be known as the snot-knocked relic, son?”

“No, sir, I mean, yes, sir, I mean…no, I don‘t want to be known as the snot-knocked relic, sir,” he said hurriedly.

Murphey smiled approvingly. “Good answer, son.” With that, he let the boy drop to the floor with a thud. Murphey rolled his eyes to Pete, shaking his head in exasperation. “These kids today, they don’t realize the seriousness of their actions.”

Noah smirked, putting back on his hat with a small nod. “I blame society.”

Thoroughly amused, Pete gave his famous hearty laugh. “Aye,” he said in agreement, reminiscent of his old captain, Lucas. He smiled at Ronan, stooping down to where he lie on the ground, propped up by a bar stool. “You know, Murphey’s right. On a good day, I do plenty of snot-knocking on men twice your size.” For a moment, he watched Ronan shake in fear. “But…I’m going to give you a break, boy. You’re a good kid from what I’ve seen. Probably got a bright future with the fishing business.” He slapped the boy on the back, accidentally causing him to wince in pain. “No hard feelings, lad.”

“But, you don’t understand!” Ronan exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and lunging in the pirate’s path.

With a frown, Pete unsheathed his sword, bringing it down a breath away from Ronan’s throat. The youth gave a shocked cry and froze in place, his eyes wide with fright as the cold metal grazed his skin.

“Aw, now you’ve gone and done it,” Murphey said with a sad shake of his head and turned away. “Don’t leave too much of a trail, Pete.”

“Please,” Ronan got out. “Please, don’t kill me.”

Pete gave an arched eyebrow and surprised laugh. “You had been given a gift, son,” he let him know. “I was going to let you go. I was going to let you go back home to that nice girl of yours.” “She not my girl anymore,” he said in a raspy voice, eyeing the sword fearfully.

Pete’s head cocked to the side, blinking. “What?” he asked. “But when I saw you two together over there, you were all over each other like tattered clothes on Davy Jones.”

Ronan looked down, embarrassed. “She left me.”

Murphey turned around, interested. “What? Why, lad?”

He sighed and pointed to Noah, trying not to let the heartbreak show. “Because I lost to this gentleman over here.”

Pete’s grip on the sword loosened. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, that was a foolish thing to do, agree to go up against my friend over here. You should know better than that.”

“He didn’t seem that frightening to me,” he replied dryly. Immediately, Pete’s sword thrust back against his throat. “Well, we are that frightening, and a boy like you should know better than to challenge men with swords and guns.” Pete watched the color drain from Ronan’s face as he backed up as far as he could against the bar. “You know a few years ago I would have slit your throat right here and right now for the insolence you’ve shown here-”

“No, no!” Ronan’s high-pitched voice pleaded as his eyes widened.

“I don’t know, son,” Murphey replied. “I would not mess with this man.” He put his hand on Pete’s shoulder contemplatively. “No, this man does not look stable.”

“I’m sorry,” Ronan said convincingly. “I’m sorry.”

With a loud chuckle, Pete let the sword drop. “I’m not going to kill you,” Pete said, still slightly drunk. “What kind of pirate do you think I am?!” If he wouldn’t have threatened the boy, he would have had to deal with all sorts of attitude. And being a pirate, Pete was far above having to do something like that.

As Ronan’s body collapsed and his breath came out in slow draws, Pete put the sword back into his scabbard. “You’re all pirates?” Ronan echoed.

Noah arched an eyebrow. “Yeah...what gave it away?”

Murphey laughed along with him, elbowing Noah in the side as he pointed to his skull and crossbones bandana. “I don’t know about you, but I thought I had a great cover going.”

Pete turned and sent both of them a warning glance. Looking back to the boy, he nodded. “Yes, lad, but don’t get the wrong idea about us,” he said in a calm, warning tone. “For now, we’re just sailors trying to get back on a ship.” He slowly rose back to his feet. “We’ll be pirates tomorrow.”

Ronan thought for a moment. “Well...” he said, wondering if he should venture a question. “Do you pay your crew?”

“Of course,” Pete answered.

In that instance, Ronan’s risk-taking side got the better of him. “I was trying to get your attention, sir,” he explained, “because I’m a helmsman.”

Pete and Murphey stopped in their tracks and turned around. “Really...” Pete said, interested. “Continue.”

Ronan gladly did. “I’ve been a helmsman since my father taught me at the age of six, he being one himself. I’ve been on ships all my life. I can steer anything with a wheel, and no ship I have ever been on has been lost.” Murphey nodded, impressed, but Pete’s look told him to allow the boy to go on. “I’m the best around, sir,” he said honestly. “Ask anyone.”

Pete took a deep breath. “And why is this particular job so imporant to you?” he asked, interview style.

Ronan looked to the side. “Well, you remember that girl I was with?”

All three men nodded.

“Her father had promised me a job on his next voyage as long as I treated her right, and now that she’s dumped me, I’m sure that it’s not going to be long before he hears that we spend last night in the same bunk, sir,” he said, blushing slightly. Murphey laughed, and Noah gave a low whistle. Pete’s smile turned amused. “Her father has a rather large hunting gun. So I hope your destination’s far because I’d like to get out of country as soon as possible, sir.”

Pete let out an appreciative laugh and gave the boy a solid pat on the back, causing him to jolt forward. “I don’t think I’m going to get a better story than that,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Be at the dock by nine a.m. tomorrow morning.” A smile broke out on the boy’s face. “We take to the sea at noon, but personally, I would like to take off a little sooner before the long arm of the law awakens, understood?”

“Perfectly, sir,” he said gratefully, grinning from ear to ear.

“Good lad,” Pete said. He smirked. “And keep up this ‘sir’ bit. I think I’m starting to like it.”

“Yes, sir,” he said on command. With that, Ronan skipped off out the back door, but before he left fully, he turned back. “Front dock, nine a.m.?”

“Affirmative,” Noah called back with a small smile. “See you there, kid.”

With that, the youth ran out of the backdoor, his problem solved and fate sealed. Pete chuckled. “Not too bad for a helsman, eh?”

Suddenly, a raspy voice cut through their banter. “I know a better one.”

With a jump, all three quickly swerved around to face a man just hanging on the outskits of the shadows. He was thin, frowning with his mind and body both taking the shape of a crooked, convoluted being. His beard was rough, and his voice scratchy. There wasn’t anything about the man that set him apart from most others...except for the black patch hiding the remains of a left eye.

Pete’s breath froze from the shock and burned from the anger. “Duke...”

Duke put his arms out, presenting himself. “In the flesh, my friend.”

Pete’s sword sprung from its sheath in a line between the two. “You’re no friend of mine.”

At the very sound of the sleek weapon leaving its cloth, twelve barrells loaded and twelve cocks of various pistols clicked backwards. Murphey drew his gun and Noah his throwing knives.

“Fortunately, I have enough friends of my own, Peterson,” Duke replied casually, striding up closer to him. He looked down at the sword with a teasing smirk. “Now why don’t you put that barbarian weapon of your away so we can discuss this matter like civilized refugees of the law?”

Pete held the sword strongly, a foot away from Duke’s face. “The codes forbid this-”

“Au contraire, the codes encourage this,” Duke quickly rebounded, shaking his finger knowingly. His smirk grew taunt. “If a crew member of sequestered treasure is known alive and is not contacted upon the return to said sequestered treasure, the uncontacted must act upon the insult as he sees fit.”

Pete’s jaw tightened. “This is entrapment-” “Yes, it’s effective, isn’t it?” Duke replied putting up his hands above his head, as the men with the height of Peterson and stock of Murphey around him stalled ever closer.

“I can take down three or four, but no more than that,” Noah whispered to both Pete and Murphey as their backs met in a defensive triangle.

Murphey looked up. “I’d hate to give up a destined life of wealth and luxury on this, but when duty calls it calls, Peterson,” he murmurred, his weapon held threateningly in front of him. “If you go down, I go down, too. I could take a few with me.”

“Ah, comrade to the end, eh, Murph?” But even as he spoke, Duke’s gaze glued to Pete. “’Til death do you part...” he taunted.

“I’ll drink to that,” Murphey growled and without a second thought, jutted his pistol up to Duke’s head.

Immediately, the gun of one of Duke’s men brushed the hair against Murphey’s ear. The right eye stared at Murphey as a lioness staring down her prey. “Go ahead...I dare you...”

“Let it go, Murphey,” Pete ordered. “Just back away.”

Murphey’s glare shook and then accepted its defeat as he reluctantly brought down his firearm.

Duke let out a low chuckle. “Good boy, Murphey. Keep up that repore and you’ll have a bone by tomorrow morning-”

“What do you want, Duke?” Pete interjected.

“Why don’t you put down that sword like a good lad, Peterson?”

Noah sent a questioning glare to Pete. With a long sigh, he nodded hesitantly, and his sword dropped useless to the ground.

“There, was that so difficult?” Duke asked in a friendly tone.

Pete sighed before repeating. “What do you want, Duke?”

“Well, now, I thought that I had been perfectly clear,” he said. “Scuttlebutt around town is you’re setting sail for the island with only a select few-”

“It was simple choosing really.” Pete’s glare deepened. “No mutineers allowed.”

“So hypocrites are welcome?” Duke countered meaningfully.

“We both know I didn’t kill him,” Pete whispered. “Lucas knows-”

“Lucas gave me clearance to join your crew.”

The statement caught Peterson off guard. “What?”

“I said that Lucas, our sadly retired captain gave me clearance to join the crew setting sail for the island.” Duke’s voice caught a hint of humanity as Peterson stood dumbfounded. “Pete, the treasure’s just as much mine as yours. Running from the law for years, keeping under wraps, hiding our piracy...it has to end somewhere, friend, for both of us...”

Though Pete’s face remained stone cold, he refrained from arguing the title this time. To a point Duke was right. The treasure was partially his, but forcing himself onto the voyage and threatening violence was not right. It was insulting and underhanded. Yet, it was allowed by the near biblical rules a pirate lives and breathes by. The codes. Peterson failed to hold back his smirk. Just like old times...Duke using the laws against Peterson and for himself. Yet, the fact didn’t stop them from stubbornly keeping their hold on him and his judgements.

He let out a long sigh before looking up acceptingly to his old shipmate. Whether he liked it or not, Duke was back...and as soon as he got his treasure, Pete would never have to look at his devious face ever again. To never see Duke again, to never be reminded again... The situation evolved into Peterson’s purpose, not a defeat at being controlled by his once friend now enemy. The thought both calmed and invigorated him.

Pete turned back to the minions surrounding him and made a face. “They stay behind.”

Duke raised his eyebrows superiorly. “You have a crew of four.” He shrugged, his point made. “They come with me.”

Closing his eyes in order to control his anger, Pete nodded, allowing it. “Fine,” he said, annoyed. “But I give the orders, and they follow the orders. Or the murdering begins.”

Duke nodded, not making any comments about the threatened violence, surprising Peterson. “Understood. You’re the captain of the ship after all.”

Peterson studied Duke for a second before responding. Compacency in the face of authority. But it wasn’t out of respect; Duke merely had something to gain. “Good,” he said and continued to walk past him, the men and their weapons parting to let him pass. “Nine in the morning, the ship sets sail. Be there.”

“Aye, aye,” Duke said a bit too heartily. “I look forward to the set sail with great anticipation.”

Noah and Murphey walked past him with a glare but without a comment, following their captain out of the saloon. Once outside Noah watched as Murphey and Peterson exchanged a glance that took the place of words so well that even Noah got the message.

While Duke was looking forward to the claiming of his spot among their crew, they certainly were not.