If Patches was as much of a lightweight as Arthur, they would have been caught before they even made it out the door. But as soon as Patches caught onto to Arthur's impulsive escape plan – if it could even be called that – he took on the lead.

Patches had a small frame. The boy was also nimble. He dived and weaved his way through a mess of people all scrambling to follow the officers' orders to catch the two. And somehow he got Arthur through the mess as well.

Arthur also wouldn't have known which direction to go when they got out onto the street, but Patches dragged them through a narrow back alley, through the shadows, and towards the beach. There, hidden slightly by palm trees, rock outcroppings, and the setting sun, was a rowboat.

Patches practically threw Arthur into the boat, and then pushed them out into the water. He must have had a good idea of what the current and tides were like, because Patches guided the boat into a steady course away from the town.

By the time the officers had made their way down to the shore, Patches and Arthur were too far out for them to reach.

The officers raced back, most likely to fetch their own boat. But Patches and Arthur already had a head start.

They skimmed the edge of the reef, and Patches rowed perpendicular to the shore, until they came across a secluded cove.

And this was definitely not Arthur's plan, but here he found himself anyways.

Being pulled on board the pirates' ship.

"I have to go back!" Arthur exclaimed. His hair was still dripping wet and his collar was slowly soaking through from when he had shoved his head into a bucket of water, in an attempt to sober himself. Luckily, regeneration meant a fast recovery from alcohol, and he could slowly feel himself start to slip back into some form of sobriety.

Now, he was in Patches' cabin, pacing back and forth, while a few pirates eavesdropped from outside the door. Patches sat in a cabin windowsill and watched Arthur bubble into a panicked mess.

"And do what? Turn yourself in? Reveal our location?" Patches asked, in a bored tone.

"That's what I should do! That's what you deserve! Pirates, the lot of you! And, and, and you stabbed me!"

"I thought we were even now."

"That's not how this works!"

Patches still sat, unaffected. "They think you're dealing with pirates now."

"Yes, because of my inability to explain myself properly, thank you very much for getting me drunk."

"You did that yourself. Almost impressive." Patches looked down at his hands, and began to pick off the dirt there. "Besides, they had a point. Why didn't you arrest me?"

Arthur stopped short.

"Well, because… I…"

Patches smiled just slightly, and without looking up from his hands, asked "Do I amuse you?"

"No!"

Patches didn't react to that. "The offer to be our new captain is still open." He said. "And don't worry about the details. We already voted."

"Already… voted… they voted… for an officer who has been at their heels for years…?"

"They trust my judgment." Patches said without a touch of doubt. It wasn't bragging. It was a fact.

Arthur shook his head, certain he was losing all fragments of what was leftover of his sanity. He turned towards the door.

"If I go back now, I should be let off easy."

"Again? What will they do to you?"

"At worst? Hang me, and then I'll return to my duties and everything will be as it should. Though I am certain I'll be pardoned, once I defend myself."

Patches let his hand down with a sigh, and slipped off the windowsill. "Will it? Will everything be as it should? You're entirely content with your life and duties?"

It was as if Patches could read Arthur's mind. Arthur's memories flashed back to the hangings and floggings, more than just the ones from the day ago. But each and every harsh punishment inflicted on people who were just trying to survive. People who were beaten and forced to serve the noble English Kingdom.

Arthur had always felt compelled to serve the Crown and Parliament. That was where his loyalties were supposed to lie. But his people, he despised seeing his people kicked to the dirt. It gripped at his heart and ached in his bones like nothing else could.

Patches tilted his head, his brow arched, expectant, as if he could see all that Arthur had seen.

"They already think you're becoming a pirate at this moment…" Patches pointed out. "Instead of trying to convince them that you're not doing what they think you're doing, why not do what they think you're doing, have a little fun, and be done with it? Hm? Why not… take a chance to enact some of your own justice?"

Arthur swallowed, and slowly turned around to face Patches. "And what's in it for you?"

"Fun, I suppose. And the opportunity to serve under someone who is undefeatable." Patches paused. "Is there anything that can defeat you?"

Arthur blinked, and then replied honestly, deadpan, "Bringing down the English government… and all the rest of the state."

"Huh," Patches considered that. "Interesting response. But alright. I'll entertain that notion."

Seeing Arthur's bewildered and likely somewhat apprehensive expression, Patches waved a hand. "I'm not planning on doing anything of the sort. Swear to it, on me watery grave. It sounds like too much work, anyways."

Arthur stood there and stared at the floor. Something tugged at Arthur's chest. Temptation? The need for retribution and justice? If he agreed, he wouldn't be the first pirate captain to free people from whatever chains that bound them, whether literal or figurative. But could he do this? Was any nation capable of deliberately defying their government?

There was only one way to find out.

He took a step forward, and spoke slowly. "I have no intention of willfully killing any English civilians."

Patches frowned. "I'm not certain how the crew would respond to that, but I suppose we all have our quirks." Patches then held out his hand. "So, are we in agreement?"

Arthur took another step forward. Hesitant, waiting for the consequence of his decision to hit him, tear at him. Would he crumple? No, he had defied laws before. But nothing like this.

He crossed the room at a snail's pace, and lifted his own arm at an even slower rate.

Nothing happened. No Hell fire. No ache. Nothing inside screaming at him to turn back.

So Arthur reached forward and grasped Patches' offered hand.

"Yes. We're in agreement."