Laudanum and Larceny: A Pirate's Redemption

By J L Madine

The Caribbean 1718. Captain Bay Blakely is a woman in a man’s world. Having found herself in command of her late uncle’s pirate ship the only means for survival comes in the form of fabled Incan gold long lost to the ages. With the help of notorious buccaneer Jack Rackham Bay must come to terms with the life chosen for her and face a long line of bloodthirsty enemies snapping at her heels. Also aiding her quest is the mysterious Doctor Thomas, abducted under Blakely’s instructions from the quiet island life he finds himself press-ganged into her service. But with the past threatening to catch up with both of them the doctor soon discovers his fate lays intertwined with Blakely’s own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J L Madine
• Release date: Feb 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798721525438

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Patient

1718, Great Abaco, Bahamas

The day was typically idyllic on the island with clear blue skies and the most inviting ocean waters for miles on end. With the storm season passed the residents were free to go about their respective businesses and daily routines untroubled. There were of course still complaints to be had, particularly in the case of the sick. Such a paradise was not spared from the grim reality of life itself.

The busiest resident on the island was the physician, one Clark Thomas formerly of Cornwall England. At an early age the lad had taken a keen interest in medicine after losing his father to a mystery illness he’d later learn to be tuberculosis. He would go on to study under Herman Boerhaave, a renowned doctor in Europe said to be far ahead of his time.

The work was plentiful but young Clark wished to expand upon his knowledge, seeking to travel to the Colonies further afield where new afflictions arose to be combatted. With his family going through financial troubles the only way to get there was in signing up to His Majesty’s Royal Navy as a chief surgeon. It proved to be a tough learning curve for the lad with strict discipline and confinement he grew to loathe as their journey progressed endlessly.

The ship’s Captain, a veteran of naval combat, had been sent to lend a hand in destroying the troublesome sea raiders of the time known as pirates. It soon became evident that the tyrannical enthusiasm of the man extended to more than just their enemies. Clark ended up treating his ship mates for lash marks more often than other ailments until he confronted the Captain personally in a bid to temper his thirst for capital punishment.

Despite his position this earned Clark a lashing of his own. His back still bore the scars of that day; a distant and dark memory lingering below the surface of the respected and revered physician he’d now become to the people of Abaco.

With his medical bag strapped to the saddle of a white stallion he rode across the sands to his next patient, an old escaped slave named Gerald who complained of back ache. The doctor had concocted an ointment from native herbs that would ease the man’s pain. Upon presenting it to him Gerald held the small jar close to his aged eyes.

I understand you have yourself a mistress Gerald, Clark remarked matter of factly.

Eh? No. Where did you hear such a rumour sir?! Gerald replied defensively.

Clark often did well to disguise the humour behind his eyes and wouldn’t allow a smirk to betray his serious outward nature. It’s none of my business beyond the fact you’ll need someone to apply the mixture twice daily…

People were often forthcoming with their secrets to a man in his profession. He had secrets of his own he’d prefer none of them were to find out, but life was simple on Abaco. Sometimes during the more peaceful nights when he had no patients to visit Clark would ponder the fact that it was too peaceful. But his position in the Bahamas was a complicated one after what had transpired in the Navy.

On one such night as he lay in his hammock reading by candlelight, a knock on the door surprised him for the fact he’d unusually heard no one approach. His attention flicked from the pages to the closed door as he lay idle for a moment. One moment, he called out, negotiating his lean frame from the fabric and placing the book down before answering.

There stood a young woman, her pale features illuminated by the lantern light from within, revealing a black eye as she flashed a timid smile at Clark. So sorry to trouble you, doctor… she spoke.

Not at all, come in, the doctor replied, stepping aside. The brunette whose hair was worn up in an untidy bun stepped in clutching the shawl about her shoulders and looking around the room. Clark had not laid eyes on her before as he was sure he’d remember such a face. Take a seat, please, Clark offered as he fetched the lantern. He was no stranger to the fact the demon drink often got ahold of even decent men and the result was often unfavourable to their wives and children.

Crouching by the girl, his fingertips brushed loose strands of wispy hair from the shining wound as he gently guided it towards the light.

I-I…was clumsy sir, wasn’t w-w-watching where I stepped, the girl explained with a nervous chuckle.

Not to worry, Clark assured her as he rose after appraising the bruising. They often sting and look worse than they turn out to be. Any other effects? Headache? Blurred vision?

She shook her head, olive eyes darting around when his back was turned, surveying the shack with great attention to detail. Clearing her throat she inquired, Have you b-been long in this job sir?

Oh, many years now, Clark replied as he searched for the right ointment. Those same olive eyes sized him up now, determining that he looked like no doctor nor surgeon she’d ever laid eyes on before. The intrigue left her the moment he turned. This will hurt some, he warned as he resumed his position before her with some of the pungent mixture smeared on his fingertips. To her credit the girl barely flinched upon the light pressure applied as he rubbed it over the darkened flesh. In the silence he glanced briefly at her eyes, suppressing the urge to press an inquiry as to the genuine reason she sported the swelling with a mind to speak to whomever had caused it.

There, he announced when finished, rising to his full height over her. That will ease the tenderness but the swelling itself will go down over the next few days Miss…

Elsworth, the girl revealed as she sprung up. I cannot thank you enough doctor, she told him. I have no m-m-money to pay you with… This was made evident by the tatty dress she wore though the doctor was already waving her off.

Not at all, he assured.

Miss Elsworth swallowed as her eyes once again lingered on the rear form of the physician.

"Perhaps I could offer something…else?" The shawl came down so it hung about her arms as her fingers toyed with the neck of her dress. Clark turned and frowned at her.

That will not be necessary Miss Elsworth, he said, almost in a scolding tone suggesting offence at the very notion.

Ah, an honourable man, Elsworth responded, her tone shifting confidently as she backed away towards the door with a smirk playing at her lips. I almost regret this good doctor, she lamented as her hands reached behind her and opened the door.

Several brawny figures piled into the room, dishevelled, unshaven and menacing as if manifested from Hell itself. Your reputation precedes you doc, the woman’s voice sang from amidst the gang she stepped around. I need a surgeon for my ship.

Clark was aghast, his head swimming between the imminent threat to his being and the bemusing words of the sweet girl he’d just treated. Your ship? he uttered, thoughts composing as he tried to remember the location he’d left his sharpest implement on the table a foot behind.

"My ship, she confirmed, stepping up to him. Three square meals a day, the open air of the sea…adventure, prosperity…all yours if you’ll but agree."

And if I don’t?

She pouted and frowned, cocking her head to one side as she regarded him. Then I suppose we’ll have to find another, she answered. Her head returned to its rightful position and her features straightened. So will your patients.

Clark cast a disapproving gaze at the brunette who despite losing several inches to him returned it with a looming presence of her own. I’m sorry, I have too many people here who depend on me. Nor do I wish to work at sea. And further, Miss Elsworth, I do not appreciate being threatened. Now leave before we have need for a quarrel.

Elsworth cocked a brow and met his assertiveness with hands on her hips before she sighed and then spun on her heel. Looking to the men looming in the doorway she flicked her head and they closed in on the doctor. He took a quick step back and clocked the first burly assailant with a hard left that had the man slightly taken aback before the others fell on him. Gently boys! We need him tip top shape mind, the woman ordered as she looked on. Firm hands accosted Clark and a fist doubled him over as it impacted his gut. They held him either side as the first man pulled a sharp blade to his throat.

Clark breathed heavily as he was held fast. The woman slowly strolled up to him basking in her triumph. She regarded him top to bottom, her demeanour now much changed from the timid shrew who’d sat as his patient moments ago. "No need to make this difficult doc, I did a-a-ask nicely, she taunted wickedly. He glared at her defiantly through cobalt eyes reflected with those the like of which he’d never seen on a woman. Take him back to the ship."

As the doctor was secured by his assailants Elsworth walked around his shack inspecting the personal belongings before Clark was manhandled out the door. Elsworth stopped at a framed portrait laid backside down on a table. It was of a pretty young woman no older than herself, blonde, soft features but an elegance she was bereft of. Bag all of that up, she pointed out to the two men who remained. The woman herself opened the medical bag under Clark’s hammock and rummaged through a few of his tools. She gathered those spread around his table, along with all the jars of ointment on shelves she swept in with little care. The two men left the shack and Elsworth took a final glance around before pulling the door shut behind her.

Chapter 2

The Rook

The doctor’s heart thumped in his chest as he was bundled into a boat and sandwiched between two foul smelling brutes. The crescent moon hung on a cloudless sky illuminating the vast beaches as the longboat cast off into the calm waves. Where are you taking me? he asked firmly. Disciplined silence was the only response. Clark could tell from their appearance they were brigands, most likely pirates. Tattoos, sun-scorched skin, raggedy attire and most evidently the weapons hung about them purposely suggested so. What he could not determine was how a mere slip of a girl commanded such barbarians with that air of authority Elsworth had displayed in his shack. Moreover, he was to seemingly be press-ganged into their service. Each moment his thoughts lingered on processing this information was a moment wasted. He had to escape and the sooner the better for his chances.

Pinioned tightly as he was, swimming was off the table but Clark was no stranger to a tight spot and thus did not give in to panic, even when the shadowy silhouette of a two masted brig pulled into view. She was sat off at the far end of the island with her lights dowsed, looming there in the darkness menacingly. Pirates alright he told himself. And with scant opportunity to give his captors the slip Clark soon found himself being hauled up onto the vessel like cargo.

Elsworth followed in the next longboat, contented with her prize and the effortless fashion in which she’d ensnared him. The pin was removed from her bun so that her hair fell about her shoulders and caught the gentle night breeze. In such moments her role did not seem cumbersome as it had so often proved over the past months as the Rook’s Captain. But she only needed to climb back aboard to be reminded how tenuous her reign was. Above decks on watch several pairs of eyes observed her return with growing disdain each time her feet landed on the hard boards. Don’t just stand about, get us underway! she snarled.

The doctor was sat against the port side of the Rook under guard and glared up at the female. Blindfold him. Give me a moment to change and then bring him in, she ordered the pirates standing over Clark. The cloth secured to obscure his vision was placed so as to ensure he had no advantage in finding his way around the ship. He was dragged to his feet and ushered along to the interior of the stern where the Captain’s cabin lay. A knock at the door. Enter.

Clark was plopped down in a chair and heard the pirates leave and shut the door behind them. The cabin was warm, scented heavily with some kind of burning incense he couldn’t immediately put a name to as he listened. Welcome aboard, the woman’s voice spoke.

I feel welcome, Clark quipped as he once again tested the rope ensnaring his wrists astern.

You can take that off if you like, Elsworth snapped back in jest, but to her surprise and amusement the doctor managed it by rubbing the cloth off with his shoulders. Before him lay a large desk upon which was scattered scrolls, navigational equipment, trinkets of all kinds, ledgers and a journal, a quill and pots of ink. It was a somewhat methodical mess of parts. The Captain laid back in her chair, her bare feet propped up unabashedly displaying the blackened soles beneath as she cut pieces off an apple with a small knife. A resourceful man too…I like that, Elsworth acknowledged. I’ve had all your equipment brought aboard, it was almost everything in that shithole you lived.

You wasted your time, for I’ve no intentions of accepting employment from a pirate, Clark countered.

Can we not set aside the formalities doc? You refuse to work for me, I threaten you, torture you if it gets as far, you relent…etcetera etcetera… Elsworth rhymed off with a roll of her eyes as she slid another slice into her mouth. It’s all rather boring and I do not like the mundane.

Clearly, he agreed, casting his gaze around the dimly lit cabin much as she had done in his shack. It was much more lavish. Whether she’d inherited it or decorated herself it reeked of unfitting pieces relieved from the spoils of her dastardly deeds at sea. A bearskin rug pilfered from a merchant, crimson curtains covering the stern gallery which had been swiped from a Spanish galleon, handy for disguising the blood stains that no doubt adorned them. I assume you are used to taking what pleases you…

You assume correctly, she agreed.

I can assure you Miss Elsworth I am one prize you’ll not get your use out of.

Blakely.

I beg your pardon? Clark asked in a gentlemanly tone unbefitting his circumstances.

"It’s not Elsworth. You fell for that as easily as the rest. I am Captain Bay Blakely. You may refer to me as Captain," she explained. Bay’s patience was unwavering as she carefully dissected the fruit and chewed each slice while observing her new crew member. He was a handsome man for a doctor, her intrigue piqued by his physique which was hardly in keeping with a man of his profession. Young too. His beard added years to the age she surmised to be late into his third decade. Bay had a keen eye and the wits to match, even if her education had been cut short a long time ago.

Blakely, Bay Blakely. He had heard the name on the lips of another he could not place just then. But he’d assumed that name was attached to a male pirate and still couldn’t quite grasp how a woman commanded her own crew, so he asked. How is it a woman commands men as you do?

It’s a matter of circumstance you’ve no need to concern yourself with doc. By the way, now you know my name, might I have the pleasure?

For some reason after admittance of taking what she pleased, the fact Bay had asked for his name drew it forth from Clark before he’d had time to play games. "Clark Thomas. You can make it doctor."

She smirked and a good humoured snort left her. A sense of humour ought to serve you well here, Bay suggested as she set the finished core aside and held the knife between both sets of fingertips. Where did you learn your trade?

Does it matter?

Well yes. All I have to go on, is this, she reasoned, her fingertips dancing on the shiner he’d treated earlier, And what the good people of Abaco had to say about you, which may well have been lies I mean land lubbers are easily pleased. Although there is this too… She held a document taken from his bag, certifying his qualifications. Mind you, it could be a bloody good forgery.

It’s authentic. Though I cannot say I’m surprised the like of you doesn’t know the difference. He was testing her, looking for tells, seeing how far he could push before she lost the easy demeanour and reverted to type. He’d taken his time observing the Captain, a contradiction of a woman if ever there was one. Bay tossed the certificate onto her desk amidst the rest of the clutter and slid her feet off it.

That…was cheeky, she taunted, strolling slowly, silently around the furniture where she leaned and crossed her arms. The loose fitting white tunic was accompanied by a set of tight navy breeches and hung tantalisingly to her lithe form. Several piercings adorned each ear, rings taking up six of her ten slender fingers and an anklet jingling above her left foot. Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you? she proposed.

I thought we weren’t doing this…

So you’ll work for me then?

My rates are high…

Oh, you needn’t concern yourself with reward, doc, Bay assured him, stepping forward and straddling his lap. Slowly her arms came to rest about his shoulders as she settled atop Clark, whose breathing became slightly more pronounced. She smelled of sea salt and a citrusy fragrance that could have been orange blossom. Her olive gaze glanced downwards before returning to his with a smirk. "It feels like you’re not so honourable a man after all doc," Bay noted unfairly.

What do you expect? You’re not exactly a hag, came another acidic quip.

Bay flicked him hard on the nose to which he recoiled. We must remain professional Doctor Thomas, she scolded sternly as she climbed off of him. People will talk. She strutted around to take her seat again, sitting up straight and folding her arms on top of the desk. Think on things until morning. Think of the alternative, let me paint you a picture. I will let you go, but you can swim back to shore again. Tell me, have you ever swam with a pair of cannonballs chained to your feet? She smirked and called for her man outside the door. Lock him up in the brig. At that she disregarded the doctor for the time being and busied herself in her charts.

Clark was lifted from the seat and ushered back outside, looking once over his shoulder and shaking his head. There was no use in blindfolding him again as they’d pulled out to sea well away from swimming distance of the island now. It didn’t matter if he made note of his surroundings, but he did anyway as the pirate leading him was joined by another. In the scant light under the night skies he made out several crew undertaking their tasks and once led below the hatch the sound of shanties and revelry reverberated to his ears until they reached the brig. He was untied and unceremoniously shoved inside, the metal door slamming shut with a heavy clunk.

Sweet dreams landlubber, the pirates mocked followed by guttural laughter which faded as they left. Clark sat against the cold steel of his cell in the dank dungeon he’d been imprisoned within. The sway of the brig was a feeling he hadn’t missed, not that he had much need of sleep nor could he achieve it if he did. He sighed. Against his better judgement life had become too comfortable on Abaco. He’d known it for a good year now and yet he still fell for Blakely’s ruse. Cunning bitch he thought. And he thought more. It had been too long since he felt the heat of a woman next to him. The island hadn’t exactly been bereft of a fine body or two, but he’d held some idea about loyalty to a woman he hadn’t seen in three years. Anna.

Clark tried to envisage her now; her blonde hair blowing in the wind atop the cliffs overlooking the Cornish beaches, hiking her dress up as she ran through the sands towards him. Except she wasn’t blonde in his visions. A brunette and her conniving green eyes were in her place, a sweet scent and dangerous closeness which turned him on to the point he couldn’t get Bay out of his mind. He loathed her. Had it been so long since he’d had a woman?

The prisoner stood up in the cell, his full height allowing his lengthy dark hair to brush the tops of the enclosure as he stooped over slightly to compensate. It reeked of misery down there. No doubt many a poor bastard had made a final resting place of it. He clutched the bars nearest the porthole, but sucking in anything remotely close to fresh air was nigh on impossible. As impossible as escape. He put his logical scientific mind to formulating a means to it anyway. If he played along he’d have access to his tools, perhaps a private quarters alone to act as a surgery. Then he’d be better equipped to get off the floating hell he’d found himself in.

One thing was for sure, his life on Great Abaco was over.

Chapter 3

Terms

Bay had taken to recording every important detail in her hectic life as a ships Captain. The chat with her prisoner hadn’t been too bad; she’d given a good account of herself and the time had passed impossibly quickly. So much so that as she swirled her quill her eye caught the first sign of morning light creeping through the drapes and she leaned back and picked up a pocket watch that read twenty minutes past five. A yawn escaped her. She put down the quill and surrendered to sleep, padding across the cabin to her large four-posted bed which was screened off by a black curtain on a rail that stretched one wall to the other.

Upon pulling it back gently, she revealed a man laying atop the silk sheets in but his breeches, skin pale and unnatural in the humid climate of her stuffy cabin. An unsteady hand reached out to lay in the shaggy fair hair for a moment of contemplation before she climbed onto the bed and spooned his lean form.

In the brig, Clark startled out of sleep with a jolt. To his horror it had not all been a nightmare. He breathed deeply to calm his risen pulse and looked to the light filtering through the porthole. Morning. A decision would be expected. Thus far only his pride had been wounded and though it was on account of their need for his services, he hadn’t been harmed. He was not a man to be swayed by threat but the reality was that few choices remained in his immediate future besides making the best of a bad situation. He would push the Captain further; see how much leeway she might afford him until he could seize his moment. As a ship surgeon in the Navy he had been an important man. There was no reason for things to be any different among these rotten scoundrels for the time being.

I have conditions, he revealed once brought before Bay that same morning as she was dining on eggs.

Mhm, she responded nonchalantly with a mouthful.

I will work better if I’m afforded a more…elevated position aboard this ship. Sleeping in the brig, in fact being confined to such a place at all, simply will not suit me, he explained. I’ll need a surgery. I can make use of it as a cabin too if you’ll permit me a hammock. And being at sea is much different from having a practice on land. I’ll need to frequently resupply, go ashore maybe once or twice a month…

Bay nearly choked on her breakfast as she balked at his demands. Doc, she uttered before swallowing, I was born at night but it wasn’t last night. She washed it down with a coffee as she sat behind the oak desk with him in the opposite chair. As a precaution his wrists had been bound in front of him with hemp and he’d already eyed a dagger sat among the Captain’s charts and opened envelopes. She had spotted him doing so. If you perform to my expectations I won’t lock you up. We have a surgery the last fellow vacated.

I see. And what became of him?

He pissed me off, Bay replied without missing a beat. The reality had been different. He had frustrated the Captain but he’d also saved lives. Until his own was taken in a skirmish. She’d lost too many men to lament just one. Necking the rest of the tepid coffee from its cup, she rose and glanced towards the curtain screening her bed. You can begin to impress me this very morning, she suggested. Approaching the curtain she drew it back to reveal the man again. He was laying in the same spot as before, unmoved. Clark’s brow furrowed and he scratched an itch of his beard as he wondered what to make of the scene.

Who’s that? he inquired forwardly.

Bay glanced back at him but she did not answer. Impatiently Clark stood and made a few steps towards them. Bay instinctively straightened, a hand near the pistol tucked into the rear of her waistline. It was enough to ensure the doctor kept his distance. He’s dead, he delivered in that matter of fact nature a medical man grows into. Pff, I hope that isn’t your last surgeon you mentioned! Bay shot him a look suggesting this was not a subject for jesting upon.

There is nothing to be done for him now. But I need you to dispose of him, she explained gravely.

Clark stared back at her, then looked to the corpse. I’m a physician, Blakely, not the Grim Reaper. A silence followed as if Bay was awaiting the inevitable reluctant agreement. Clark’s gaze returned stoically to her and he held out his hands.

Earn it, she told him.

He sighed and withdrew them. Open the drapes, he bid her. She wasn’t used to being told what to do aboard her own ship and paused to momentarily reprimand the doctor, but he’d already made his move. Turning the corpse over he revealed a youthful face but a few years younger than himself, light stubble days old before the lad had expired. It was best not to ask questions here, for now. Is your back sore or something? Are you gonna help me?

Bay stood momentarily as if she were in a trance, unperturbed by the snarky comments of her prisoner before she snapped out of it. No. My back is fine. But if you speak to me like that again, I assure that yours won’t be. She grabbed the hairy bare legs of her late bedmate and tutted as the doctor tried to get a grip on his upper half. For Christ’s sake! she snarled, dropping the legs back onto the sheets. She grabbed his bonds and began undoing the knot.

Clark held back his sarcastic insight as he noted the ill humoured demeanour of the Captain. She unfurled the rope and tossed it onto the bed. The doctor made short work of hooking his hands under the armpits of the corpse and hauling him over to the stern gallery. Any qualms that plagued him about the unscrupulous nature of such a deed were buried as deep as he could muster as he attempted to curry favour with the woman, not even requiring her help as he bundled the lifeless body up and slung him halfway out the open window. Bay got a final word caught in her throat and in her hesitation she watched as Clark tipped the lad overboard.

As he turned to regard her with narrow eyes beneath which she felt his judgement boil, Bay could see that this was the man she wanted the moment she’d conceived of a kidnapping. What do I do to avoid such a fate? Clark inquired.

Sit.

She took up her own seat, tortured thoughts eased slightly by the pleasant breeze trickling in from the still open window. Clark moved around the desk, surveying the cabin once more as if to ponder where else she might have another corpse stashed. Bay slid open a lower drawer on her desk and took out a pair of goblets not of that time. A brown bottle followed from which she poured a liquid of amber hue into both. With bemusement Clark accepted his upon her offering, only he held it in his grasp awaiting Bay to take the first sip. She did not keep him waiting. Resting the back of her head against the leather of the chair she studied the man across the desk whose returned gaze did not falter. I didn’t expect a man like you, she remarked.

I only did that because you’ve made it clear you’ll kill me otherwise. And seeing as that fella was dead already…

I’m not talking about that, she interjected. She drew from the goblet again and another moment’s silence followed. He was my first mate. I trusted him above all others these past few difficult months. He was also my lover…

Clark had noticed no signs of murder in the outward sense. With a more thorough examination he safely surmised that it would have been otherwise. He made no such comment as he waited for her to elaborate.

You asked me last night how it is that a woman commands a crew. With great difficulty. Men I can trust, she explained with a nonchalant gesture back out the window, are a rare commodity. The way she spoke told Clark she was educated well enough at one time or another. Our stiff friend back there became contrary to that. It was obvious she no longer needed to admit to his murder. Sighing, for she did not enjoy the act of explaining herself to anyone, Bay continued, "I am in a precarious situation here doc. Every day is a day longer than the life expectancy for a female Captain. The fact I am struggling to deliver on the men’s ambitions hardly helps. But I am doing my best, hence my acquisition of you."

Intrigued the more she revealed, Clark silently listened, supping the sweet and not unpleasant rum from his goblet as he tried to determine where she was going.

A good doctor ought to placate their bellyaching for a spell. But to me doc, you’re of much more importance. She set down the goblet carefully and leaned forward to fold her arms along the edge of the desk again. Neither my former surgeon nor my first mate trusted me in the end, nor could I trust them in kind. I hope I can count on you doc. I wish to hold my position for as long as possible, for despite my shortcomings, I do have ambitions…

And I can tell you Cap’n, a skeptical crew isn’t your only problem. Every military governance on these seas is united for the one fact none of them want your kind around, Clark warned her.

Oh how observant you are, she retorted sarcastically. How is it a landlubber like you thinks you’re so informed on such matters anyhow?

Because I once served under a Captain who was rather…vigorous, in his disdain of pirates. He casually sipped his rum once more. His crew didn’t favour him either.

And what became of him?

I killed him.

Bay stared at Clark looking deep into his eyes as the days light reflected off of them. A moment of silence passed interrupted only by the slosh of the waves below. And then she burst into laughter. Her smile was exaggerated by quite prominent teeth yellowed from her indulgences in vice and her laugh was unladylike. Even more so to Clark who cocked his head and frowned. As I’ve said, Bay chuckled as she calmed herself, your sense of humour will serve you well doc.

What, you don’t believe me?

I think you’re trying to impress me. And I think you’re full of shit, Bay replied. You’re a physician for Christ sake, aren’t you supposed to protect life or something? I might have believed you if you were a cook…they’re all psychopaths.

I suppose you’ll be kidnapping one of those too then?

She shook her head as her mouth was full of rum until she swallowed it. My current cook is actually not terrible, not with his cuisine anyway… She laughed again at the thought of Clark offing a captain himself. He realised it was good that she underestimated him in that regard; it suited him just fine. "Back to the matter at hand. If you behave yourself and do me proud, it’ll look well for me, see? I’ll have less to worry