MacNichols could see the discomfort on Mabel’s face and body language as he spoke plainly of the events that were unfolding around them. He didn’t particularly care, since any plain fool would have heard the squabblings of the mutinous crew both tonight and the time in port before. The only question remained is if Brailham somehow, miraculously, had no idea of his impending fate. It was something that seemed impossible, and MacNichols simply took it as the man was at a loss of what to do. Being a captain was lonely business, it’s not as if he could consult the other men upon the ship for advice and guidance. 

“Goddamn, I hate this.” He said at last, standing up from his seat and grabbing the bottle. “Come on, then. We’ll speak somewhere where word isn’t like to travel.” He said, beaconing the hard-featured woman to follow him. Instead of leading her towards the harbour, he moved further inland to the edge of town. When the crowds seemed to have dissipated enough, he decided to speak, but not before enjoying himself another swig of the bottle. “So I have you figured wrong, do I? By your standards, keeping the status quo seems rather… boring.” He said, looking Mabel in the eyes for the first time since leaving the tavern. Both sailors had found themselves on something of a hill on the outskirts of town, not quite elevated to illuminate them, but it did give a bit of a view to see if anyone were approaching. He shook the bottle in front of him. “If you wanted to be subtle and quiet, why in God’s name did you approach a man who’s been drinking? For someone with a plan, you don’t think very far ahead, do you?” he shook his head irritably, resisting the temptation to drink again. Now was the time to think. 

“The only way anyone’s going to win the captain any favour is if he starts taking bounties again and keeping our pockets filled with coin. When’s the last time we struck a ship with anything more valuable than a shipment of timber or sugar? I can’t rightfully recall. Unless you have a plan for what the captain should be doing to get the lads to forgive his meekness, I can’t imagine we can do anything that would make him any less fucked in the days to come. Really, lass, I’m all ears. How do you propose Blake and MacNichols save the day and prevent a bloody mutiny?” he asked, waving his hand theatrically so the woman could take the stage.