Jackpot

Dribbling down his chin a bit, the heady scent that was rum enveloped his mouth and nose, the burning liquor only going down his throat with some difficulty. Hearty cheers and clinks of mugs followed by the heavy slosh of liquid surrounded him in the dim candle light, a vicious grin plastered to his face as he admired their latest haul. He'd ordered the chef to bring out their freshest batch of food as they were going to be docking soon anyway (and he'd be damned if he and his men had to eat those meagre biscuits that sufficed for food on a night like this).

A tap on the shoulder prevented him from re-living the moments.

Turning swiftly on his heel, he noticed their navigator (and majority of the time cook), Yao, was fidgeting with a map and compass in his hand, looking anxious and generally not wanting to talk about whatever it was in front of the others. With a nod, the two walked outside onto the starboard, the cool night air breezing around them with only the slightest taste on salt to it. He then realised that Yao hadn't told them to quieten down (something he was annoyingly adamant about), not even once throughout the busy night, churning his stomach with worry.

"What is it, Yao?" He asked, a bit too hurriedly for his liking but demanding enough at least.

The dark haired man finally gave up on trying to make the outcome sound better than it was and with a sigh he said, "A large ship is coming into out path, captain. We should relocate soon. It bears the-"

"Another ship?" Arthur exclaimed, effectively cutting off the other man, "Well why didn't you say so earlier, this is fantastic news!"

Sprinting off to inform his men, Arthur hardly heard the warning protests from Yao as to just exactly what kind of ship it was, instead gathering his cutlass among other weapons as the crew geared up and got out their grapple hooks in preparation of their next big catch, still high on the previous outcome of their last plundering. Resigned to his fate, Yao heaved a heavy sigh as he made his way to his quarters, unable to keep up with the fast paced and often ill thought out ideas. Shutting his door, the first clinks could be heard as metal scraped against metal from the grapple hooks and gave up contemplating why they did things the way they did.

Such was the life of a sky pirate.

Shackled. He was...shackled.

Struggling to push the horrendous realisation out of his mind, the melancholic clinking of shackles instead of mugs forced himself to come to terms with it, despite the fact that he had vowed to never end up in shackles again.

And now he was responsible for his shackled crew too.

Of bloody course it had to be a government patrol ship, of course it did. He should have known better, the words 'quit while you're ahead' ringing through his mind, but he never would've ended up where he is now if he followed those words. And currently that is shipless, crewless and shackled.

Perfect.

The turning of a lock alerted Arthur and his crew of another presence entering the dingy room, the heavy pine door shuddering as the person behind it struggled somewhat to move it's weight. It was only when the figure stepped into the dull and split sunlight from the grid above did Arthur truly notice who he was. The name tag 'Jones' embroidered over gold stars and the bright blue eyes could only belong to one person and Arthur resigned himself to his fate as the 'speech' about justice and comeuppance was initiated.

Oh, this was going to be a long trip.