Thomas smiled at the report of the cannon, and the ensuing smell of black powder that accompanied it. It was a smell that invoked feelings of power, menace, and riches. It was a harbinger of both death and opportunity, but Thomas forced himself to view it only as the latter in this instance, with his holds full of pillaged Spanish treasures. 

His smile, so much a fixture of the [i]Skate’s[/i] successful return voyage to Port Royal, only brightened as Antonia’s inimitable voice called out his moniker of “Silver Fish.” He saw her eyes looked to Jax, and he guessed at their taunting intent. The sea-artist had not mentioned any misgivings directly to Thomas, but he had the keen feeling that the age-old sailor superstition of women on a ship being bad luck was at the forefront of the man’s mind. Thomas had noticed that Jax was not the only member of his crew to have these fears, and several had even left the [i]Dusk Skate[/i] for service aboard more traditional vessels. To Thomas, it was hard to claim that women were catalysts for ill-fortune when the [i]Skate[/i] was about to pull in the largest single haul for Port Royal during the year 1667. 

Thomas nodded to Antonia, and responded with, “Aye, the usual place. I’m going to see to the unloading of the cargo first.” This would give Antonia plenty of time to ply her unique trade, and hopefully yield the [i]Dusk Skate[/i] with its next lucrative venture.

He stepped away to the bow of the ship, and found Nicki’s watchful eyes upon the operations of the crew. Upon the docks, just a few hundred yards off the starboard-bow, workers awaited the throw lines from the [i]Skate[/i], and Thomas could hear their excited banter even now. 

“Well, Ms. Beauchamp,” he said to his First Mate, a sly curve to his bearded face, “is your share of the booty already spent, eh?” Thomas raised a mischievous eyebrow to the woman. “If you have a mind, I’d love to see you try and prove the French curse erroneous by actually not losing your weight in silver at cards.” 

He had to admit that he did not know if Nicki was a gambler, but he knew that he was, and any good seafarer should be able to navigate a fast-paced game of gleek, at least in Thomas humble opinion. His question had been in a manner of jest, but there was a hint of genuine challenge in his voice as well. Thomas genuinely trusted his First Mate, the fact that she held the coveted position spoke to as much, but he still knew very little about the beautiful French woman.

“Much of the crew will be at the Black Boar later on this evening, loosened with rum and angered by cards.” He said, “I hope to see you there.”

[center]* * *[/center]

Over the next several hours the [i]Dusk Skate[/i] set at the North Docks, having its precious cargo unloaded and precisely cataloged by the governor’s customs quartermaster. By the middle of the night all the crew had received their shares, and had dispersed to the innumerable bawdy houses, grog shops, taverns, and gambling dens that filled the waterfront of Port Royal. Though fatigued, Thomas Lightfoot still had much to attend to that evening.

He set out for a small tavern on High Street named the Parakeet. As he made his way through the muddy, stinking streets, he looked forward to his meeting with Antonia. The city of Port Royal was a place rife with rumor and gossip, and a place ripe for harvesting by the skills of one such as his eagle-eyed rogue. This was an invaluable asset for Thomas, and the information she gleaned in turn enriched his entire crew. 

Making his way inside of the dimly lit interior of the Parakeet, he took an empty seat in a corner away from the entrance to the tavern. Waiting there alone with his thoughts, he knew truthfully that his main pleasure in meeting with Antonia was for much more selfishly personal reasons than the prospect of gold. With a smile of self-acknowledgment, Thomas set back and motioned for the servant-boy to bring him a tankard of grog, and waited for the grey eyes of Antonia.