Uma was tending to the sails of her ship when she heard it. She sighed. Harry and Gil were arguing about something or other again.
"What are you two fighting about this time?" she demanded, coming up from behind the two quarreling boys. Harry and Gil snapped to attention.
"Hey, Uma," they chorused.
"Hey, Harry. Hey, Gil. What's the fight about?"
"I think I should be your first mate," Gil said quickly, before Harry could say anything. Uma raised an eyebrow.
"And why would you think that?"
"I'm stronger than Harry," Gil explained. "Also, I'm-"
"I'm more suited to sea," Harry interrupted. "I don't puke myself inside out every time the weather gets stormy, like Gil does. Also, I've been your first mate for years, and I say don't mess with perfection."
"You're not perfection," Gil scoffed.
Harry snarled and pulled up his sleeve, exposing his hook. It flashed in the sun as he advanced on Gil. Uma interposed herself between them.
"Harry, chill out. Gil, shut your mouth."
"But I should be your first mate!" Gil whined. Harry was about to push Uma out of the way and slice Gil open stem to stern when Uma shoved him backward and almost knocked him over.
"I said chill out, Harry. Obey the word of your captain. And Gil, offence or anything, but I really can't have a first mate that gets seasick."
"Told you so," Harry hissed at Gil, smirking.
"Harry, if you don't shut up I'll turn you into fish bait with your own hook. Gil, you can come help me with the masts."
As Gil sauntered off with Uma, Harry glared at his back.
"See you later, Gil," he declared under his breath, running one finger along his hook. "We have some unfinished business to take care of."