One evening, Faline stood in the moonlight next to the mast. The breezes off the Gulf calmed her temper. Voices soon carried her direction, and in an instant, she recognized it was Duncan. She crouched in the darkness next to a bulkhead.

“Aye, after the next raid would be ideal. The hold will be filled.” Another voice spoke, but it was unintelligible. “Dump him over the side. I don’t really care so long as he is gone.” The voices went lower. “Most won’t care; the ones that have a problem with it will keep their mouths shut to avoid joining him. We have a few on our side.” A pause. “And Aden’s spot won’t stay empty long, once there’s room to fill it.”

The other voice said something that sounded like “Lukas.”

“He won’t take sides, ours or the Captain’s. But he’ll make a good First Mate. “The voices drifted away.

Duncan was clearly planning something, but what?

She scrambled down into the galley and grabbed some parchment and a quill from Argus’ desk. Her hand hesitated over the parchment. If anyone recognized the hand that wrote this — if Argus ever wondered why his cook’s boy needed a quill at all — there’d be no explaining it away. But there was no time to find another way. She scribbled the note quickly, blotting the ink before it could smear, and slipped out onto the quarter deck.

Only the watch stood there, looking out to sea. She walked by nonchalantly, then veered off toward the Captain’s quarters. After a quick glance, she folded the message and slipped it under the door. Hopefully, that would be enough.

* * *

The next morning, a whistle sounded. Schmidt climbed to the aft deck surrounded by men, fingering their swords and looking warily upon the crew.

“You elected me your Captain, and I’ve been good to my word. But last night, came word of a plot to replace me. If that is the case, stand forth and announce yourself. We’ll have an election now to determine who will be the Captain for the rest of this cruise.” He looked directly at Duncan. “Speak now or hold your tongue until we get back in port.”

Duncan stared with naked insolence but said nothing. Schmidt let his gaze run across the rest of the crew. “Very good then. I will hear no more on the matter.”

He turned and looked at Duncan. “Mr. Duncan, you will have the third watch until we return to Port Mortain.” With that said, Schmidt turned away and returned to his quarters.

Duncan watched with venomous eyes, then scowled at the rest of the crew as he went below.

Argus rubbed his chin. “That was curious. Duncan won’t be too happy with whoever ratted him out to the Captain. I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes.”

Faline swallowed hard. If she weren’t more careful, she might be the one going over the side during the night instead of Schmidt.