Emmaline opened her mouth to object. Work of any kind was antithetical to her but an idea began to form in her mind as soon as he spoke. She deliberately closed her mouth before she said anything foolish and took a moment to examine the notion as it developed. It was vanishingly unlikely that Albrecht would pay any sizable ransom for her, but there didn't seem to be any advantage in admitting that. She reached out and seized one of the candied raisons between her long fingers and popped the morsel into her mouth.

"If you allow me to write to my beloved Vissendorf," she said, failing despite her efforts to inject much warmth into the the sentence.

"I shall tell him I am being held captive by the most vile pirates and beg for my swift relief," she continued. With the wine knocked over she took the bottle of rum and took a slug from the neck, nostrils flaring as the strong liquor burned the back of her throat.

"As for the other matter, if you insist I work my passage..." she glanced meaningfully out to the deck where the crew were cheering to some raucus entertainment or another.

"I can think of worse ways to pass the time than as the assistant to our gallant cook."