Kincade stumbled onto the deck, lifting his hand to shade his face from the sun of the Pacific. The sea breeze was working its cooling magic on Captain Stevenson and Mr Wallace, who had removed their jackets and loosed their sleeves. Revealing forearms and the sailors' secret language into their skin as tattoos. Both displayed anchors for the transition of the Atlantic. Still, if you look closely at Wallace's arm, he also had the intertwined ropes of a deckhand.

The Captain shifted his gaze from starboard to port and back again, looking at the Raven's Claw at ships keeping above the prize ship. Several more of the crew had been lowered down. And Kincade stopped momentarily to take a deep breath and lift himself up. He put his shoulders back and held his chin high. Then, he placed his right hand on the bracelet. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was his own man. He had made a choice. And now he needed a plan, and with Mr Wallace to take this ship, he would be free of his watchful and competent oversight.

Walter's, the elder brother of the body below, had the men lined up several of the prize ship's crew, what was left of the poor bastards. They were on their knees, holding their hands behind their heads. Many were bloody and showed signs of what Kincade assumed was a one-sided fight. To Kincade eye, these men were sailors, not soldiers, and indeed not pirates. No one wore armor of any kind. They were average, working men dressed in linen shirts and woolen pants. Wallace was standing over the nineteen of them.

"You are pirates. In the name of The Steamspire Trading Company, we have taken this vessel lawfully by maritime law and our royal contracts. Unfortunately, you and your cohort had murdered so many of the original innocent crew. And your unforgivable acts of piracy. Require that I pass judgment on the godforsaken lot." Mr Wallace said, with all the forcefulness of a man who believed his own lie. Kincade saw one of the kneeling men lift his head and glance at Wallace. Kincade noted that his eyes were still sharp and had a purpose.

Another of the kneeling men stood up and said, "Sir, I am James Bullock, a gentleman of Auckland. And I here in error. I am not a pirate. I booked passage with the vessel, and in truth, they are a fine crew." James said.

Moreover, the man was dressed slightly better than the others because he wore a waistcoat. It appeared to Kincade's view much like himself at the beginning of this strange odyssey.

"Oh, is that so, my lovely," said Mr Wallace.

"Would it, at all, be possible to discuss my errr… situation with your Captain?" Bullock asked.

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"Why certainly, my lovely," Mr Wallace replied.

"Oh, Captain Stevenson," Mr Wallace called out almost lyrically. The Captain walked over to stand in front of the pair of them.

"What is the problem, Wallace?" Captain Stevenson said as he approached.

"Sir," Mr Wallace snapped to attention.

"This fellow…" Mr Wallace started to say.

"Please don't trouble yourself. I can handle my own affairs," Bullock offered cordially.

"You see, Captain, I am simply not a member of the ship's crew. I paid for passage on board this vessel. I was caught up in this quite regrettable business," Bullock continued, waiving Mr Wallace aside.

"So, if I am to believe what you are saying, you are not a pirate. You are an innocent bystander," Captain Stevenson said, looking sideways at Wallace. "In league with pirates," Captain Stevenson continued.

"No, Sir. I do not believe these men are pirates," Bullock continued.

"Well, then. This would appear to be sloppy work," Captain

Stevenson said as he cast his eyes over the scene.

"I find I must agree," concurred Bullock.

"You see, Mr Wallace," Captain Stevenson's voice rose in volume on Wallace's name.

"I wanted a simple prize, with no crew to deal with. Just wanted a dead ship to call for salvage. Something that I can sell, with absolutely no whinging passengers," Captain Stevenson stepped back, then slapped Bullock to the ground before he put the slipper in. Bullock's body convulsed with each hit.

"This is damned sloppy work," Captain Stevenson continued and kicked Bullock again.

"But, it will be profitable," Mr Wallace said.

"True enough, my friend. So let's say you will take this ship to Hong Kong and sell it," the Captain said openly and without any desire to hide his intentions.

"I think we could profit on this lot in the slave markets in Tonga. This is an odd region and more than a few like a Westerner for servants and workers. I hear we could get a good price for each of them," Mr Wallace offered without lowering his voice. He didn't care that he was within earshot of the captured crew.

"What! You can not be serious." Bullock croaked out.

Hearing the protest of his prisoner, Stevenson signaled to one of his riflemen. The nearest man raised his rifle high and hit the Bullock with it. A solid thud reverberated as Bullock hit the deck unconscious and maybe dead.

"Well, that was simple enough. This will be a good opportunity for you, Wallace," Captain Stevenson offered.

"Aye, Sir. You will get a fine bounty for this ship," Mr Wallace promised.

"Not just the shares for the ship," Captain Stevenson slapped the back of his hand against Wallace's chest. "But, I think it should be enough to buy out your contract. Have you not been wanting to go home? You have some sort of family, do you not?" Captain Stevenson said with an indifferent tone.

"I have, Sir. But, I was under the impression that I would need to be working for the company for at least another two years," Wallace said

"Normally, yes. But, I hold your contract. If you were to give me a good reason, such as your share of this prize, I could release you from service," Captain Stevenson offered.

"Why would you do that, Sir?" Wallace asked, his voice becoming quiet.

"Call it a little insurance for you to return, with the bounty, for the prize," Captain Stevenson said. "And, should I not see you again, I will report that we took a pirate prize, sent you back with it, and you stole it, again a simple insurance." Captain Stevenson continued.

"I see, Sir. And that would mean my wife and children would be held

to account for the prize money," Mr Wallace painted the picture for him.

"Quite so, Wallace, the company would collect its due. Simply good business and simple insurance," agreed Captain Stevenson.