Keeping a dress clean on the deck of a working ship was no easy task. Between the grease covered guns and the tar slicked ropes that crisscrossed the ship like the web of a particularly demented spider, not to mention the continued attempts to grope her by various filthy sailors, many of home still smeared with gun smoke and blood from the recent battle, Emmaline's work was cut out for her. With her possessions now loot for the crew however, several of them were wearing articles of underclothing as hats or bandannas, preserving her outfit was something of a priority. Ranald alone knew where she was going to sleep, though she tried to put that out of her mind for the moment. When the bell finally ran for dinner it was with considerable relief that she headed back, aft?, towards the Captain's Cabin.

Emmaline pushed the door open and stepped out of the dingy narrow hallway into Markus' cabin in time to see the tough looking captain slide out of his hammock and take his seat at a surprisingly ornate chair. It seemed the only item of any real comfort in the room save for a few books which sat on a shelf, netted with twine to stop them from pitching out onto the floor whenever the ship rocked on the waves. The water had been calm for the few days Emmaline had been at sea, but it was obvious even to a land lubber like her that the sea was beginning to rise as night fell.

Without speaking a word she crossed the room and took a seat in the other open chair, smoothing the cream silk of her dress before setting herself down. It was obvious from the repast that had been prepared that they were already getting good service out of the cook. A roast chicken and several baked potatoes, both spiced, lay on a plater surrounded by some fresh apples. A decanter of wine, a dark red vintage which Emmaline had come to associate with Tilea and almost certainly had been loot from the captured ship, sat beside the chicken along with two glasses with heavy leaded bottoms that gave them some stability at sea. They had left the Poxed Whore just before sundown, after the pirates had stripped the ship of anything of value, down to her cordage and powder. A fire had been set in the ships aft before they cast off the lines and the glow of the burning ship was still barely visible on the horizion.

"Thank  you for inviting me Captain," Emmaline said with something of a strained formality. She reminded herself that she needed to make an ally of the pirate captain, or at least lull him into complacency.  It didn't hurt that alone among the pirates he cut a rather handsome figure.