The setting sun cast long shadows of the rigging across the ship's deck. This experience was like no other; his life had ups and downs and one or two things that made a night's sleep impossible. Some people tell this experience as a story in a bar, like a walk in the park. Even with the benefit of grog, you think the teller of the tale has gone mad and does not even know it. For a moment, Kincade wondered if he had gone mad. And then remember, truly insane people don't ask if they are insane. They think things are progressing as they should.

But here, where he had been the instrument of destruction. He had killed a man in the service of a greater good, to be sure, to save a life. And, in the months-long gone, he had been pushed from pillar to post. He had been the fool in the court of the mad king. Then, he had been forced to dance, but not now. In his head, at least he had taken back his life and was awake and able. He had taken action, and now that he was determined to be free of that madman Wallace, he was determined to get free as soon as possible to take back the life that had been stolen from him.

Walters emerged from below deck, his dead brother in his arms, the brother that Kincade had just killed.

"What the hell, man, what is this?" Wallace blurted out.

A few moments later, Walters crossed the threshold onto the deck, carrying his brother to the ship's railing and consigned him to the sea without a word. Then he turned and noticed the prize ship to see the ship's crew, the so-called pirates, kneeling on deck. Walters rushed forward, screaming, a raw sound, much like a lion after the kill would make to ward off those who would share his prize.

And his body convulsed, the tears ran down his face; looking to the heavens, Walters cried out a wordless plea for vengeance to the heavens above and the hells below, to all the gods who would listen. And they did. Seagulls circling overhead joined the scream with their own high-pitched, unearthly sound.

Walters grabbed the first person he got to and punched him once, then twice and again, yelling, "Was it you? Did you kill my brother?" until the man went limp. Walters continued with his barrage until Wallace walked over to him and placed his hand on Walter's shoulder before saying.

"If it was not him, but we will find the one. And you will end him." Wallace continued, and the heaving Walters released his grip and stood still, raggedly breathing.

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Wallace issued an order to slap the ticker bracelets one by one. He wrapped the bracelets on each of the remaining prisoner crew. They were placed on the left wrist, like the bracelet on Kincade's wrist. They were then given instructions on how they worked, as if the mechanical terror device was not well known to anyone who sailed on or above the seas of the South Pacific.

With the domination of the crew complete, Wallace turned to Captain Stevenson. Kincade moved closer to see if he could hear what was being said. He wanted to be in earshot when the order separated them both.

"Wallace, I need to get underway. I want to be in Samoa as soon as the winds allow. You can have Walters as a first officer and his boarding party. That'll give you some security," Captain Stevenson offered. "What else do you need to get underway?" Stevenson continued.

"I will be able to use most of this lot like the crew for the rigging work, but I will need a navigator and some with some proficiency with the steam engine. Can I have the third watch from Ravens Claws? If you move to a two-watch rotation, we will join you after we make the sale in Hong Kong." Wallace said.

"Fair enough. So, that will get you an officer's crew, but you will be stretched with only a single watch. But what about the engine room? Are you going to want Boson?" surmised Captain Stevenson.

"Boson! No, not that fool." Mr Wallace said.

"Kincade, my lovely, come to me," Wallace called out. The look on Kincade's face was one of shock, and it matched the feeling in his gut, and he stood still, unmoving. Then, noticing Kincade's stillness, Wallace called out again.

"Kincade, to me now.". And Kincade remained still, unable to move; plans in his head were built like walls of a castle, and they began to crumble.

"Wallace, what in the nine hells is happening with this man?" Captain Stevenson said as Kincade fought for breath.

"This is the one I told you about. He is smart enough but somewhat willful," Mr Wallace said to the Captain.

"Right, the one you corrected," Captain Stevenson speculated.

"Aye, sir," Mr Wallace acknowledged.

"Well, it seems to me. Maybe he would benefit from more correcting. I did want to get rid of Boson, but now, it would seem, I cannot leave this one in my engine room," the Captain offered, pointing at Kincade.

"Right, then. This Kincade will remain with me on the prize," Mr Wallace stated.

Walters came up on Kincade from behind, grabbed his collar, and kicked the back of his knee in a single motion. Kincade dropped down to the deck, and Walters dragged him over to Wallace, dropping him at his feet like a cat drops the headless body of a mouse before its master.

"Is he controllable?" the Captain asked. Mr Wallace reached down and yanked Kincade up by the collar.

"We are good friends. Are we not, my lovely?" Mr Wallace posed the question like a schoolmarm talking to a child. Kincade squirmed under the grasp, attempting to shrug off Wallace's grip.

"Definitely, Mr Wallace," Kincade said through clenched teeth.

"Aye, my lovely? That is Captain Wallace," Wallace said with a sardonic smile.

"Well, then, Captain," said Stevenson pointedly. "Let's get this exchange underway.

"Thank you, Captain," Captain Wallace said and let go of Kincade to salute the Captain.