John paced the dock. Not all of his men had shown up yet. There was more on his mind, however, than his crew.
Ratcliffe walked up to John, making sure to just knick his shoulder with the edge of his cape. His face was the picture of friendliness, but John could see the hatred in his eyes.
"When are we to set off, Captain?" Ratcliffe asked John in a mocking voice.
John looked at the sky wistfully and back at Ratcliffe's glaring eyes. "About noon. We are just waiting on a few other people."
"Is that so?" Ratcliffe looked around them. There was no one else on the dock. He brought his voice down to a whisper, "Just because the King is making me travel with you doesn't mean we are on friendly terms. You better watch your back, Smith." He stalked aboard the ship, his cape fluttering in the breeze.
"It's Captain Smith to you!" John called after him, but Ratcliffe didn't hear.
