There was a tense silence from the First Mate after Antonia’s words and the Captain’s reply. A tense silence in which she sat so rigidly, so tightly that she was very close to snapping from the tension. Like the bottle under her fingers, held together only because she lacked the strength to crush it without aid, her body held together and after a moment she felt like she had enough control of the moment back to let her grip loosen enough that Antonia could take the bottle from her. 

Aid had come from an unlikely source, the smiling, quipping helmsman with his unsettling and oddly appealing grin. His words, his lack of concern and his joy in all things pulled the attention off of her just as Antonia’s chiding had pulled the unwavering attention of the boy off of her. She was still not comfortable in the moment, but she could move, she could talk and she would not crumble. 

Then Captain called her Lieutenant. Even if it had been intended mockingly it brought her great ease. It loosened her spine some and she breathed easier. Even though that title was no longer hers, it was what she had once earned and in her heart she still bore it with pride.

“Thank you, No.” she said to Antonia with a nod to the Rum though she did release the bottle. “I think perhaps I have had too much. It is not my custom to indulge.” 

She smiled, or tried to smile and the corners of her mouth only momentarily curved upwards. The familiar smile of the all-seeing look-out unsettled her nearly as much as the Helmsman’s. Had she grown so cold and fearful that a smile would undo her? She wondered but pushed aside the worry for a time when she was alone in the dark of her cramped cabin and could roll it over in her mine. For now it pulled her from the heart of the matter, the Captain’s command and is request for thoughts on a matter already settled. So she forced herself to pull her eyes to the captain, her honeyed voice low and respectful but still sweetness caught in the ear. 

“Well since you are asking for thoughts, Captain, I will share with you my first one. That you should not tell anyone further of what our plans are, of our prey. We cannot leave immediately since we need supplies and so we will linger. Lingering means those men at ease must hold back such information against the rum they drink and that is asking more than one should of men who have had success and now seek ease. So we wait and when we are at sea and lips need not fear being loose you share with them our prey. They trust you, they will not mind the withholding.” 

She paused and then nodded as if settling something with herself. “Is that the sort of thought you wished to hear, Captain?”