Thomas raised a challenging eyebrow to the sea artist, his copper eyes glimmering. “You’re on, Jax. We’ll wait for the face of the moon. That will give our contest an interesting layer of daring.”

A smile came to his lips, and his gaze drifted upwards towards the yards of rope and sail that hung suspended above. The sails were billowed, taut with a favorable wind. Amidst the squares of canvas sailors climbed and crawled, their backs gleaming with sweat, and crimson with sun. 

It was there, in that man-made forest of masts and fabric that Thomas had grown up. He would forever look upon that dangerous climb within the rigging as the chisel that helped to shape his identity. He wondered if the same was true of Jax. The kill devil the men would share later would lubricate such answers, from the both of them. 

Thomas scratched idly at his back where his tattoo was healing, and turned to look across the length of the deck. He noticed Nicolette and Antonia speaking with one another. As he studied them, he realized with a start that with Antonia upon the deck no one was perched in crow’s nest. The [i]Skate[/i] was running without a lookout.

A moment of conflict came to him then. If it had been any other sailor besides the woman he loved standing there, away from their station, Thomas would not have hesitated to tear into that unlucky seaman with all the ire a ship’s captain could muster. But, it [i]wasn’t[/i] simply any other sailor.

Thomas drew in a long breath. He had no desire to drive a wedge between himself and Antonia, even at the cost of some face with his crew. Perhaps none of the other men had noticed? Thomas certainly hoped that was so. However, if they had, Thomas would deal with that in due time. 

Turning to Jax, he said, “I’m going up to the crow’s nest. The First Mate has the deck if you need something.” As he moved away, Thomas called over his shoulder. “You can count this as cheating if you like, what with me getting some practice for our contest tonight.”

With that, Thomas walked forward to the shrouds of the main mast, and began climbing. His movements were sure and confident as he thrust his way up the taut lines of hemp. An exhilarated grin found his face, lengthening with every foot of ascent. The wind pulled at his body, forcing his grip to strengthen on the ropes, and Thomas gritted his teeth in challenge to nature’s breath.

It took him several long minutes, but he completed his climb to the crow’s nest. He squeezed through the small opening to Antonia’s perch, as he had done countless times before. It was his first time alone however, since the rogue had joined in his company. The small space seemed infinitely more compact now without the buoyant personality of his love, but Thomas was there for a very different purpose than companionship, so he forced the thought from his mind. 

He stood up fully, letting the sun and wind press against him with all their brilliance. The rocking of the ship beneath him was strong at this height, and Thomas braced himself with a wide stance as he scanned the horizon in all directions.

Off to the northwest, he could still clearly see the green form of Jamaica, and even the dark smudge that denoted the bay of Port Royal. To the west, east, and south, Thomas could only see the shimmering brilliance of blue water, open and free of other ships. At this he sighed in relief, and leaned against the forward railing of the crow’s nest.