It was long before dawn, two hours or better, and he knew Alinnya wanted to ask why they were leaving this early.  He also knew the crew wanted to ask why she was there, but right now she was hanging from the rigging, helping hoist the sails, and they were busy lifting the anchor, and loading supplies. He untied the Death Flight from the dock, and with a steady shove, pushed the ship free. He walked luxuriously over to the helm and began to steer the ship out to sea. Dawn finally came, and part of the crew were at their daily tasks, a few sleeping soundly below, scheduled for the night watch. Alinnya walked up the steps toward him.

"Feeling better, love?" he asked, checking his compass.

She sighed, leaning against the railing, which gave him a splendid view. "Feels good to be home," she replied. "Care to explain the early departure?"

He laughed. "Mark Bowman, the captain of this ship, shot our captain and turned in our first mate, then burned the ship while she was at dock. That was the last time he was at fort, and we swore, when he came back, we'd exchange the dilemmas."

She laughed at that.

"Love, we do have a more serious problem ahead of us."

"Outside the crew?"

"If I stick to tradition, love, you'll be sleeping in the crew's barracks. And I doubt, the way they've been looking at you all morning, that you'd want to."

"I think I know what your solution to this problem is."

"Probably." He gave her a coy smile. "If you spend your nights in my quarters, the only thing they'd knock on is your professionalism, considering I did take you on as first mate."

"I can handle that," she replied, continuing her watch of the horizon.

"We'd have to continue last night's sleeping arrangements." Her position meant she couldn't get a good view of his hopeful face.

"So long as it doesn't mean you'll be ripping my shirt off every morning," she smiled back at him.

He thought for a moment. "Eventually," he replied, and the two chuckled, looking back out to sea.

"So where am I headed, love?" he finally asked, once the islands were out of sight.

"Due west," she replied. "And I hope we've enough rations."

"Three weeks," he replied. She nodded.

"We should be fine, then," she sighed. "If the ship makes it."

"If the ship makes it?" he was almost worried, now. "Where in hell's name are we going?"

She turned back to look at him, raising her hands and spinning in a little dance toward him. "Eventually? The Caribbean."
"Eventually?"

"There are several pit stops along the way. I hope you're in for an adventure," she laughed, grabbing the rigging and hoisting herself toward the crow's nest. He watched her go.

"What the bloody hell have I gotten myself into?"