Thomas raised a challenging eyebrow to the sea artist, his copper eyes glimmering. “You’re on, Jax. We’ll wait for the face of the moon. That will give our contest an interesting layer of daring.”

A smile came to his lips, and his gaze drifted upwards towards the yards of rope and sail that hung suspended above. The sails were billowed, taut with a favorable wind. Amidst the squares of canvas sailors climbed and crawled, their backs gleaming with sweat, and crimson with sun.

It was there, in that man-made forest of masts and fabric that Thomas had grown up. He would forever look upon that dangerous climb within the rigging as the chisel that helped to shape his identity. He wondered if the same was true of Jax. The kill devil the men would share later would lubricate such answers, from the both of them.

Thomas scratched idly at his back where his tattoo was healing, and turned to look across the length of the deck. He noticed Nicolette and Antonia speaking with one another. As he studied them, he realized with a start that with Antonia upon the deck no one was perched in crow’s nest. The Skate was running without a lookout.

A moment of conflict came to him then. If it had been any other sailor besides the woman he loved standing there, away from their station, Thomas would not have hesitated to tear into that unlucky seaman with all the ire a ship’s captain could muster. But, it wasn’t simply any other sailor.

Thomas drew in a long breath. He had no desire to drive a wedge between himself and Antonia, even at the cost of some face with his crew. Perhaps none of the other men had noticed? Thomas certainly hoped that was so. However, if they had, Thomas would deal with that in due time.

Turning to Jax, he said, “I’m going up to the crow’s nest. The First Mate has the deck if you need something.” As he moved away, Thomas called over his shoulder. “You can count this as cheating if you like, what with me getting some practice for our contest tonight.”

With that, Thomas walked forward to the shrouds of the main mast, and began climbing. His movements were sure and confident as he thrust his way up the taut lines of hemp. An exhilarated grin found his face, lengthening with every foot of ascent. The wind pulled at his body, forcing his grip to strengthen on the ropes, and Thomas gritted his teeth in challenge to nature’s breath.

It took him several long minutes, but he completed his climb to the crow’s nest. He squeezed through the small opening to Antonia’s perch, as he had done countless times before. It was his first time alone however, since the rogue had joined in his company. The small space seemed infinitely more compact now without the buoyant personality of his love, but Thomas was there for a very different purpose than companionship, so he forced the thought from his mind.

He stood up fully, letting the sun and wind press against him with all their brilliance. The rocking of the ship beneath him was strong at this height, and Thomas braced himself with a wide stance as he scanned the horizon in all directions.

Off to the northwest, he could still clearly see the green form of Jamaica, and even the dark smudge that denoted the bay of Port Royal. To the west, east, and south, Thomas could only see the shimmering brilliance of blue water, open and free of other ships. At this he sighed in relief, and leaned against the forward railing of the crow’s nest.

She stared at the gift, her mask well in place. Underneath that calm, flat exterior she was in turmoil. She had no tools for this exchange and she felt the lack keenly. How should she respond to this unexpected gesture? She was uncertain and Nicki did not do well with uncertainty. It was a folly to expect the world to conform to certain expectations, she understood that intellectually, but her hopes were not rational and though she understood that, it did not make the situation any easier. She looked to the bottle and wondered if a smile would be correct? If so what level of smile? A grin was out, it would look more like a grimace than a grin and was not befitting her dignity. A small curve of lips felt too intimate with this clever eyed stranger who was grinning her own grin with an ease Nicki could never master. She was certain that no matter what smile she offered, the woman wouldn’t believe it in the end.

She was no good at smiling, the expression pulled at her ruined cheek and reminded her of how litthe she had to smile about. It seemed the only smiles that came to her were one’s tricked from her by an unsettling man.

She was spared a response by the woman standing and taking her leave. It was just as well, Nicki’s throat was tight with some unnamed emotion and her rising panic at not knowing how to respond in the given moment. She’d been too long without direction and control, adrift in the presence of The Captain, Jax and now the clever eyed lookout. It was too much. Manners slipped in where her uncertainty left her high and dry.

“Thank you.” She called out sincerely if softly, to the retreating back of the woman. Likely she was growing uncomfortable in Nicki’s stiff company and the stale, vomit scented air of the cabin was making Nicki’s head spin. No wonder the woman fled. Nicki was not someone worth knowing, she was all prickles and stings and desperate scrambling for control she would never have.

As the door shut behind the fleeing woman Nicki allowed herself to slide the offering towards her, running her fingers over the lovely bottle and its drops of dew. She touched too the lovely box that held it and then, with a resolute expression she closed the box, bowing her head over it her face a study in confusion. She stood and moved to a shelf holding her most prized books and the few fripperies she allotted herself. She slid the box up into the basket that held them and then ran her hand over her face in an effort to help smooth out her expression. She could not go back out there looking like this, but she could also not be long from her duties. She looked about at the small signs of chaos, the small signs of her indiscretion. An indiscretion that had led to her first willing kiss since Yàn.

With her jaw set in a resolute expression she moved through her room in a blur of military precision, neatening things with years of practice. It wasn’t much, but it was just a taste of control, it was enough. When she left the cabin but a minute or two after Antonia her mask was more firmly in place and she almost believed that she had some control over her own life. Almost. It was a false peace, but it was all she was allowed.

Spotting a crewman lazing about when he hadn’t finished his duties she almost smiled. It was a gift, this slip up. It gave her focus. She barked an order and the man jumped, startled by the bellow and began to move to his task with a satisfying haste. The first mate was back, sad, confused little Nicki could take a rest.

Jax watched the Captain lightfoot his way up to the peak of the crows nest. Show off, he chuckled as the man stood against the wind. Seems it might be time for some fun. They were sailing off into battle he would guess. Not like even a disabled ship would willing hand over her loot. So why not a bit of grins before they begin to lose each other?

As night approached and the dusk became a sailor’s perfect picture, clear skies and a steady wind, Jax called Pierre, his replacement in training. After a few greeting, exchanges about the direction of the wind and the course, Jax patted the man on the shoulder and told him he was going to climb the riggings in a contest with the Captain. Pierre’s eyes grew large in disbelief before he cautioned Jax. In his worry wort voice, higher pitcher and faster, the man went on to tell him how dangerous that was to be playing games on the lines, how lost the ship would be if one of them were to get hurt, how tension might mount no matter who won.

Jax laughed as only he could brushing all those worries aside. Then more serious the concerned crew mate suggested he have a second, someone to hold the main line as he climb. Jax dismissed that thinking Thomas would not have anyone holding anything, why should he?

Jax left his post. As he did he caught Pierre calling to another. Jax grinned. Tell Pierre anything and it spread through the crew like a wild fire. He knew that. Just a plant of something in that Frenchman’s ear and it grew like vine.

Jax hurried down below to the kitchen quarters. He was looking for Luc. He saw the boy come aboard but had not seen him the rest of the day. Jax found him behind a huge pile of pots and pans. “I am borrowing the lab for just a minute.” He yelled and his hand found the young shoulder. He winked to Luc and pulled him away not waiting for any response. “We’ll be back soon.” With his hand on his shoulder he leaned over to whisper, “Show me your bunk and we will trade secrets.”

Through the belly of the ship the boy led Jax. “How is it you are here, lad? The lady moon call you to service so soon?” He didn’t let the lad respond but instead pushed him ahead. “We have to be quick with this deep dark cabin boy secret. Past on from one to another over ships and seas. I was once a cabin boy as was the Captain himself I venture.”

Luc stopped at a hammock in the main room. Jax looked around quickly and moved to the plank walls that curved to the hulls edge. He ran his hand over the wood until he found a board with just a slight bow and he rapped his knuckles on that spot. His eyes danced to Luc.

He used his fingers to pull on the single thin plank and there behind the first bit of wood was a very small secret compartment. “For your treasures alone.” He closed it back up then spun to the boy and pointed to the far exit, the bow of the ship. “This is your way out.” He waved the boy on and they quickly ran to the bow as far as they could under deck. There was a very small space, the Hawse hole where the anchor cable pulled through.

In a whisper Jax explained. “If you ever need to escape, get out, fire or battle that is how you go. You crawl out that line and find a rope that hangs there to the anchor and then up to the Forecastle.” Jax winked to the lad and let him look through before he turned and headed back. “Don’t tell anyone. This is the cabin boy’s secret.”

“Tonight come out to the deck when the moon is high. The Captain and I will be showing off. You may have to sneak past some eyes. Think you can sneak?” Jax slyly challenged. Of course Luc nodded. “And bring that lucky shark tooth. I will need it.” With that Jax almost sprinted the boy back to the kitchen but before he let completely go he pulled Luc close, “And don’t say anything of this to that dear Tante.” He smiled and placed a soft hit on the boy’s small shoulder. “Welcome to the secret cabin boys club.” Jax was back on deck before Morneau could scream too loud.

The half moon let her light dim enough to allow the stars to twinkle brightly over the calm seas. There was wind but not enough to kick the smooth waters too much more than a slight roll. Jax moved to the main mast and her riggings. He pulled off his boots and held them in his hands. Bare feet were his only way to feel the tension and ease of the ropes. And just because shirts had suddenly become more important to rip off than wear he took his off and held that too.

A few of the crew began to gather along the deck. They pretended they had something to do and yet they watched Jax. Pierre had started the fire and bets were being made. As he stood there a few minutes he thought about the second. He spun from his spot carrying his boots and shirt and went back to that now familiar cabin.

He stood there with an unhidden grin before he knocked on the First Mates door. “Excuse me, First Mate,” he paused and then hit the last part louder, “Sir.” He knocked again lightly, “I have a request.” There were a few crew nearby straining to hear and Jax spoke loud enough to allow them. “I request you to be my second on my contest to the top. I am told it is protocol.”

Nicki was sitting in her cabin when the knock came. Her hair was down, a loose tumble of curls she allowed herself in the privacy of her cabin. Her coat hung from the back of her chair and her shirtsleeves were rolled up as she worked on row after row of characters. The shadows dipped and danced in the hollows of her wrist as she practiced moving the brush smoothly in the way she had been taught. The work was repetitious and calming. A small bit of control to help her find her center. The stiffness in her shoulders had eased as she worked, the same poem copied over and over until the character’s felt like an extension of herself.

On a long night sleep doesn’t come
How does the moon burn so bright?
Imagine hearing a distant voice
Meekly reacting with a reply to nothing.*

When the knock came she looked up at the intrusion, one eyebrow arching for no audience to see, but simply out of habit. Then she cursed, looking down at her work and seeing the ink spreading over her last row from the stilled brush. She stiffened at the voice that came and cursed the way her belly fluttered and the way her tongue flicked out and licked at her lips as if trying to catch a distant taste.

She was about to call out for him to wait when he continued and her eyebrow rose up again. She stood, taking her hair in one hand, twisting the fall of it into a quick rope, not enough to survive much movement but certainly a little more respectable than the golden fall it had been. She didn’t bother with her coat and simply moved to open the door, bracing herself to face him, to be casual, to be authoritative, to be anything but the fluttering nervous girl she was proving to be.

Contest on the top? What was this? What need had he of a second? She opened the door with questions on her tongue, with censure and all of them, every single last one of them died the instant she saw him. It was dark, that was a blessing and she could hope that her face was cast in the shadows so that no one would have seen the way her eyes widened and fixed on his chest before going out of focus and dreamy, or the way she seemed to lose a little height as her joints went all liquid. It was simply unfair that anyone should have a chest so… perfectly scrumptious. Her mouth watered and she scrambled to find words that would get him out of there, or into her cabin or to the bottom of the sea or… she shook her head as images of beds started to creep into her thoughts. She was hoping to jostle some sense into herself but it didn’t quite work.

Finally she managed a clever,“What?”

She cleared her throat and her honeyed voice sounded just a little more focused when she spoke again, “What are you talking about Jax?”

*Chinese poem written sometime between the 3rd Century B.C. and the 5th Century A.D.

((collaboration with AmongHeroes and Igraine))

"De rien," she had replied, just as softly, over her own shoulder - though of course the rogue's response was not necessary to the First Mate. The gift was given and Antonia felt fairly sure Mademoiselle Beauchamp enjoyed her small offering. No matter her strangely brittle her demeanor, as if without her whip and her fists, her shouted orders and perpetual scowl, the woman had somehow lost the knack of interacting with the softer, more tender emotions.

No, it truly was no matter, Antonia decided as she stepped back out onto the deck, blinking in the bright sunshine. Antonia did not judge Nicolette, she knew -

'Merde... '

Her gaze traveled up the mast to her crow's nest, and she scrambled for the nearest rigging, hoisting herself easily as she began to climb. Cursing herself the whole way, Antonia swore she would not make the same mistake twice, that she would not leave her post again that the captain, of all people, should have to fill her position. The rogue was, if nothing else, a fast learner. What she was not, however, was a great sailor. She was not truly even a good one, though this past year had seen the rogue learn a great deal - and quickly enough at that.

But there were still those moments - moments just like this - where the rogue keenly felt her lack. At times like this, she wondered if, perhaps, Thomas might even regret having asked to join him aboard the Skate. Her sight was matchless of course - she was an excellent, even tireless lookout. But what good was a lookout not in her perch when she was most needed?

Or a crewmember who the captain did not (or would not) discipline as he might any other? Antonia's took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh as she slipped into the crow's nest, grimacing, biting her lip in anticipation laced with a touch of dread. "Sorry, Thomas," she said swiftly, laying her hand on his shoulder.

Thomas did not at first look to Antonia, instead his gaze continued to peer out to the glittering blue of the Caribbean. He sighed deeply, and his head hung briefly between his shoulders. It was futile to pretend that he was not frustrated, and not troubled. Thomas respected Antonia too much to simply wave away his irritation, she deserved to know the reasoning behind his emotion, and he would afford her that.

“You put me in a bad position today, Antonia.” Thomas said, looking back to his love. His expression was neutral, and his mouth a thin line. “The only way I could keep from drawing attention to your absence was to climb myself.”

Thomas stood away from the railing, his copper eyes burning like dying embers. “You know what the punishment can be for abandoning a post!” His hands came up to grip Antonia’s arms at her shoulders. His face cracked into a look of horrified fear. “God’s blood, Antonia. You know I could never do that to you.”

"Thomas, I am sorry - so sorry! I did not mean... " Antonia did not dare look away from those eyes, or the horror in their depths. Lashes at the mast... She grimaced again, wanting to drop her head with the shame, though she would not. Shame - not for the punishment she deserved, nor the pain nor the scarring, but for the agony her own thoughtlessness could have cost him.

"I know Thomas, I do... I was a fool, I was not thinking rightly - I only meant to see the First Mate... " Antonia's voice trailed off, knowing very well all her words were flimsy excuses, and she was only babbling now.

"It will not happen again. I swear it," she whispered.

Thomas watched Antonia for a moment, saw the recognition of his worry reflected in her eyes, and knew that he needed say no more about it. His expression softened, and the thin line of his mouth curled ever so slightly in a relieved smile.

He nodded, pulling her to him slowly, and enveloped her in a warm embrace. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you. God only knows I’d give up the Skate before I’d lay a hand upon you that way.”

Thomas pulled her away just enough to press his lips against Antonia’s forehead. His eyes closed, and he chuckled lightly. “I’m actually surprised the First Mate did not berate you herself.”

He pulled away further to give Antonia a wink, the mood easing dramatically in the beautiful afternoon sun. “If the First Mate has an inkling to punish you, well, you’re on your own then.”

If she were not so rattled by the loving sincerity in his voice, the realization Thomas truly would surrender his precious Dusk Skate before her, she might have made some small jest about a certain moment no more than a year past. Why, had there not been a time when Captain Lightfoot would have been quite content to shoot the rogue who’d made him considerably lighter by a rather substantial amount of silver… ?

But she let the offhanded quip pass, contented simply to see the laughter return to the eyes of the man she loved. Antonia sighed happily, and then began to laugh herself - a thing far easier without the anvil weight of guilt and shame on her chest. "I have a doubt Mademoiselle Beauchamp will - though I am afraid that when it comes to your First Mate? There is precious little I can be entirely sure about."

"Still, if I were a gambling... Ah...Woman? I suppose I would like my chances." The rogue grinned widely as she rested her head against her love's chest, her arms tightening about his waist.

Thomas smiled, happy to have the embrace of the rogue at his waist. “Speaking of gambling,” he said, leaning his head against Antonia’s, “Jax and I have a little wager going tonight. We got to talking earlier, and reminiscing about days spent aloft came up. One thing led to another, and now we’re gambling on who can climb the main mast faster.”

The thought gave Thomas another laugh. “Whoever wins has to regale the other with the tale of all that happened the night of the party.”

“That is why I simply must win,” Thomas said with a predatory air. “My curiosity won’t be sated without knowing the intrigue of the night the First Mate and the sea artist spent together.”

Thomas shrugged then, kissing Antonia amidst her braid of ebony hair. “You’ll be there to cheer me on of course, yes?”

"Ha!" Antonia snorted soft laughter through her nose before leaning back just enough to peer up at Thomas, one eyebrow raised skeptically, her generous mouth twisted into an incredulous little smile. "Oh, I will be there indeed, cheering with every last ounce of enthusiasm in this body!"

"Granted, I am as riddled with curiosity as you, concerning the First Mate's night and whatever she got up to with the helmsman... " Antonia's voice trailed off for a moment, recalling a noisily rolling and empty rum bottle. "Though I would wager it involved no small amount of liquor."

"But your reasons to win far outweigh your 'sea artist's,’, love," she said softly, grey eyes narrowing as one finger poked Thomas' chest, half-seriously, half-playfully. "I will not be pleased to have to walk by that grinning man every day, knowing he has had an earful of all that happened the night of that party - and I know you have my meaning, Thomas!"

Thomas gave Antonia his best innocent expression, appearing as taken aback by her accusation as he could. “My dear, whatever do you mean? All I recall is leaving the party and doing some fishing.”

It was impossible to keep the wide grin from splitting his face as Thomas continued to look at his love. He broke into a bout of hearty laughter, his eyes drifting skyward as he recalled the previous night’s delicious encounter. “Do you think I should tell him just how flexible rogues are, eh?”

As the words left his mouth, Thomas scurried by Antonia and leapt headlong through the scuttle hole of the crow’s nest. Like the hounds of hell were chasing him, Thomas scurried down the rigging, laughing and gasping with mirth.

“Don’t hurt me!” He called upwards between gulps of air. “You wouldn’t want me to plunge to my death! I love you dear! Forgive me will you?”

"Oh it is a damn good thing I love you too!" Antonia sputtered as she leaned over the railing of the crow's nest, laughing until the tears rolled down her cheeks, her vision swimming with the hilarity as she followed Thomas' breakneck retreat of a descent.

"All will be forgiven Silverfish," she shouted after him, "So long as you win!"

She was beautiful. There in the moonlight caught just a bit off guard, her voice dripping his name in a way he wanted her to. Say it again. And he almost told her all of that. But luckily his head took over and he smiled instead. No sense ruining everything too quickly.

What was he talking about? In a first few second he was sure he would spout out something ridiculous like he just wanted to her to stand below his riggins. He wanted to see her in the moonlight on deck. He wanted her to hold his line, or his boots, or his shirt, just anything that connected her to him. How silly. How childlike. How easy he could just say something that would mess up everything. When had Jax ever pursued a woman so? He must be cast in some sea witch spell. He should break all ties. He should learn from her guarded stand that he needed to find the same. But all he did was grin.

Finally he shook all those thoughts from his head and took a slow breath. Very quietly he leaned toward her and explained “At the helm, the Captain and I were reminiscing about the times on the rigs. Childhood memories. He,” Jax crunched his eyes thinking of the right description, “seemed to need a fun distraction. And of course I am the simpleton that craves those as well.” He looked up to the beautiful Nicki and smiled. “So I made the challenge to climb in a contest. Tonight. Soon.” He glanced to the few crew behind him noticing they pretended still not to see either of them.

“Word flew about and I was told I should have a second, someone below to hold the line taut. Or hold my boots.” He glanced down to the things in his arms. “Of course I thought of you. Poetry on the ropes, balls to make the climb, bottles to celebrate, moonlight to remember.” He paused not so sure what any of that really meant but meaning it all the same. “Besides”, he glanced back up to see her eyes or what he could in the dim light, “Other’s worry about being sided against the Captain and cannot judge his true sense of fair play. We have already played at the Captain’s table.”

Jax lost his smiling face and looked to Nicki, “Do I ask too much?” He felt the weight of the question and knew he did. He wanted more than she could give, he was sure. And maybe that was why he wanted it. If he could never obtain it then it was safer to seek. Like treasures on the bottom of a sea. It was the sailing, the tracking, the fighting that drew him more than the coins. It always had been. Yet as he stood before her wondering what she made of all of this, of him, he questioned if perhaps this was the time the real treasure was worth more than the effort.

She managed to pull her eyes up from his magnificent chest and to his eyes but found no relief there. They sparkled and danced, catching all the light of the stars overhead and throwing them back at her dazzling her. So she listened to his words and lowered her eyes, but they landed instead on his mouth. That was no better, that mouth with its impossibly white teeth, with its maddening smiles was no safer than his eyes or his chest. She knew the briefest taste of that mouth and it unsettled her how much she wanted another. Not fair, he was not fair to come to her with no shirt on asking her for anything.

She solved the problem by looking up to the rigging this absurd contest was taking place in, measuring distance with eyes used to measuring things, to putting numbers and names to things so that she could categorize and contain them. Jax had a name, one he’d insisted she used and it did nothing to contain him, not even in her mind. Three letters, one syllabus, one vowel, two consonants. It was not enough to contain someone such as he. Each time she used the name, aloud or in her head she felt like she had less of a grasp in the mercurial man than before. As if each use revealed a facet she hadn’t know. And this multifaceted man wanted so much from her, more than he asked as his last question to her said with weight, not words.

“Yes… No.” He asked too much, but she would help him. She stepped out of her cabin a little more, to look up at the rigging and then back at him, closer now, surly that had been an accident on her part. She risked meeting his dangerous eyes with her own, which were far too open for her to have done such a thing. But it was done and she was undone.

“Oui, I will help you. I will hold your rope.” She said, honey on the breeze, loud enough for all to hear. “But I will not hold your boots.”

A bit of humor, honeycomb in the honey, slipping past her lips without intending. There was laughter from the crew, less at the humor which was small and unpracticed but at the source. They had not heard their dour first mate ever crack a joke, even a small one.

Her eyes were still on his, she could not look away. “I must get dressed.” She said in a whisper to him, a bit of hair, tugged free by the ocean breeze as she’d spoken to him danced across her face and seemed to reach out to him, lightly caressing his skin as if in proxy.

“I must put my hair up, be decent.” But she didn’t move, she just stood there and watched as that lock of hair danced across his bare skin.

Monsieur Jax' admonition to sneak to the deck was truly not the least trouble for Luc. Forever and a day, his Maman was chiding him for stealing about on cat-light feet, startling her at her cooking or the laundering or the cleaning with a yelp, a sigh, and then a long-suffering roll of her eyes.

No, sneaking unnoticed above deck was not the least trouble at all, any more than the work Monsieur Morneau had set him to. Luc had been scrubbing and scouring pots and utensils from the time he was even smaller than he was now, and the boy's ability to watch a pot and not let it set to boil was something of a small miracle to the beleaguered ship's cook.

After the morning prep work had been completed, and with the promise he would return before dawn, Morneau let the silent, hard-working child go do as he pleased in the evening hours. Silent, because Luc had taken the Captain's words very much to heart. He should not speak unless spoken to, and he was yet to earn his place among these men.

Silent, even when the friendly, familiar and perpetually smiling face of Monsieur Jax had come to steal him away, and induct him into the secret Cabin Boy's Club. Luc had never been more proud than he was at those moments, when Jax told him he'd once done just the things he did now - and that even Captain Lightfoot may have at one time as well. A helmsman now, and even a captain - if there were a more ringing endorsement of the humble cabin boy's position, Luc surely could not imagine it.

Silent, even though he desperately wished to share this amazing story - a tale all his own! - with his beloved Tante 'Tonia. Feeling just a twinge of guilt for keeping these matters secret from her, Luc reasoned this was not a matter of life or death after all, but perhaps for the slim getaway through the hawsehole - and Luc doubted even his lithe, slender aunt might fit through there anyway.

Yes, Jax had said these must remain the cabin boy club secrets, and secrets they would remain.

The boy treasured all the helmsman shared with him, swiftly putting all those valuable instructions to practice the moment he was free of the galley. The old gold piece Captain Lightfoot had given him for his Maman's pound cake, was secreted away behind that cleverly hidden plank, alongside a silver locket that contained tiny, exquisitely painted portraits of his mother and father. But the lucky shark's tooth Jax had given him? Well of course he wore it about his neck, swaying beneath his loose linen shirt on the cleverly tied leather thong his Maman had fashioned for him.

Monsieur Jax had insisted he would need this lucky little talisman, and Luc would not disappoint the helmsman if his very life depended on it! Cabin boys, past and present, must certainly look out for one another!

Almost instinctively, Luc stuck to the shadows cast by the light of Lady Moon high above. The boy watched the older sailors as they gathered, recognizing from his life in the Parakeet that they had begun to cast wagers, laying coin on whatever "showing off" Captain Lightfoot and Monsieur Jax were about to do.

Quietly, with a near preternatural grace, he climbed the deck railing just high enough to see over the heads of the taller men, without the least worry of falling. Luc had no fear of heights, and had scaled near everything he could find that might have the least finger- or toehold from the time he first learned to walk. There was not a rooftop or gutter or gate wall in Port Royal that remained unscaled and unexplored. And so he wrapped an arm about a thick cord of rope to steady himself, and laughed along happily enough with the crew, those amber sparks in his dark eyes dancing merrily in the moonlight.

No, he hadn't the least idea why they laughed - he had not heard the small jest that sparked their mirth. But his uncanny sight spied the golden, angelic figure of the First Mate as she addressed Monsieur Jax, shirtless and shoeless and apparently preparing for whatever contest he and Captain Lightfoot had planned. And though Tante 'Tonia had once admonished him for staring overlong at the beautiful Nicolette, Luc could see no harm in watching her from afar, when surely she could not be discomfited by his gaze when she did not even notice his presence.

Decent? He had so much to say to that, like he didn’t want her polite or moral. He saw her so much more than adequate or acceptable. But as many replies as he had he just looked to her hair as it swept across him. He wanted to touch it. Like her name he wanted to feel it at least once in his hands on his face. He took a breath and realized that they were both stuck in front of everyone.

So he hide his smile and face from the others as he leaned slightly toward her again, toward her hair, toward the tickled it sent through him. “You are decent. But I will wait for you to,” He paused and lowered his chin, his head, to look at the strand of hair that teased him. “tie your hair.” He paused again and then looked up. “It reminds me that, well, it reminds me of dreams, but really it tells me I should do the same.”

“Do you have an extra tie?” He chuckled. “Oh no, no, I have some. Here,” Jax put down his boots and tossed his shirt over his shoulder as he fished twine from his pocket. It was just twine, thin rope curled together to form a stronger length of simple tan twine. He unwrapped it finding two pieces. The first he took in his hand quickly, pulled back his unruly twisted braids and wrapped a piece around the whole mess. He tied it loosely.

Jax looked to his boots and then back to her. “Not my boots?” He picked them up and grinned. “It is not like any of these fools would take them so I guess just setting on deck will be safe enough.” Then he held out the twine for her to take. It was for her hair of course. Not that he wanted her to tie it back. He almost told her so. Let it loose, he thought as he watched her. Let me look down and see your hair blowing. “Come,” He wiggled the simple tie to her. Take it. Hold the rope. Come with me.

Jax was sure if she turned and went back into that amazing cabin she would not come back out. Why should she? She had everything she needed inside her room. She would be decent and in her room nowhere near him.

“The night is young and it calls for decent dazzled stars. I hope to see some reflected in your amazing eyes.” He winced as soon as he said it. Now she would run from him for sure. “I mean as I looked down to you when I climb.” He stumbled and shook his head. “I mean I wish for clear skies. I mean,” He shook his head and chuckled, “I am not sure what the hell I mean. Save me from my babbles and come.”

He picked up his boots and in a grand gesture swept them forward as if for her to lead the way to the main mast. The Captain was surely waiting.

She took the tie from him because there was no reason not to. She needed a tie, he had one. And if when she took the tie from him her fingers found their way to brush along his, the contact hidden from all eyes by the shield of his body, it was surely an accident. Just an incidental touch not a caress and certainly not one that made her heart race. Still keeping her eyes from his distracting chest she held his gaze as she caught the tie in her teeth, the rough brown twine pressing into the soft rose of her lips. She lifted her hands, combing her fingers with practiced ease through her dark-gold locks, the gesture more like a dance than a casual bit of toilette. Once the heavy mass, including the bold lock which had done what she had dared not, was contained in a tail at the back of her head and the twine employed much the same as his was she nodded ready to speak when he beat her too it, talking of stars and clear skies and babbles and she lost all train of thought as something akin to panic but not quite that emotion filled her. She pulled her eyes away, looking out to the night and catching more than a few eyes cast their way, a few but not all. That was a relief. She did not want their attention for this.

Lacking any real plan she found herself reaching forward and taking his boots from him. She then pivoted and put them inside her cabin, just to the left of her door. They would be safe there, she told herself. He could come and get them after the contest was decided. An excuse, but that was fine, she had been the one to set it up. She had been the one holding the reins so she could tell herself the act wasn’t nearly as transparent as it was.

“There.” She said simply to him. “Your boots are safe so that you may concentrate on whatever it is you and the captain have planned. You may think only of clear skies and victory and afterwards you may come fetch them.”

She closed the door, stepping out beside him, still avoiding looking at his chest, scanning the faces on the deck, trying to read faces, eyes for signs of the disregard she worried she would find there. Most were more interested in the contest and milled about joking and talking and placing bets. She saw a small form off in the shadows and it took her a moment to recall the boy they had taken on without her having been informed. She frowned a little and wondered if her place on the ship wasn’t as secure as she had thought.

No, she told herself remembering the conversation with the Captain. He wouldn’t do that to her, if she hadn’t been informed she was sure there was a good reason other than oversight. She realized she was scowling at the small boy chided herself. He would be frightened enough without her scowling at him. She schooled her expression into something less dire and nodded his way then turned her attention back to Jax as further wagers were cast into the wind.

“You said contest. What is the prize for this?” She asked under her breath.

He wanted to touch her hair. Jax wanted to be that tie,on her lips around her hair. He wanted to whoop for joy that at least his boots had found their way back inside her cabin. He wanted to put his arm around her as they walked away. Christ, when had he ever had to check his wants so often? She was the ruin of him. But he liked it. Jax liked how she made his body and eyes feel alive. She shouldn’t know for course and he had best learn to fight it better. Jax just grinned.

Until she asked about the prizes. If she was looking or noticing a bit of panic flashed over his face. For a minute or two. Could he tell her the end result of the climb? “Stories” He answered quickly sure that any pause would make her wonder more than she should. “The Captain must tell the story of why the ship might be jealous of his shared attentions giving to someone else last night.” He chuckled and walked beside her trying to increase the pace. “Could be an enjoyable tale.”

Jax tried hard to move quickly so that his end of the bet might be slipped over, might be passed by or distracted as they moved to the main mast. He looked around quickly trying to find some way to not lie and some way not to tell the truth. He saw a small face among the crew and decided that would be his out. Or he would try.

“And look! It is Luc the new cabin boy and skilled cutter of pound cake. What is ashore doesn’t always stay ashore.” He waved for the lad to come over and save him. What is a secret cabin boy club for if not moments exactly like this.

The look Mademoiselle Beauchamp gave him very nearly set the boy back over the edge of the ship's rail he had perched upon. Luc had not the least idea what he may have done to earn her so obvious scowl of disapproval - even disgust. Because he surely had not spoken with her. Ever since the admonishment this morning from Captain Lightfoot, he had said precious little to anyone at all beyond the absolutely necessary, as to Monsieur Morneau as they cooked and scrubbed. What thrill of joy the captain's small salute had given him was scorched away beneath the First Mate's withering glare.

Yes, he had watched her - but so too had any number of the crew, and surely he was not so obvious as all that? Still, if he had the power Luc would have sunk into the ship's deck and disappeared utterly - maybe to slink away to the galley, or to his hammock - or better yet to the bottom of the ocean if he had truly done something to earn such a contemptuous gaze.

It was the near tangible power of that look from someone so beautiful, so obviously angelic, that made the boy take a step backward beneath its weight, in a single terrible moment losing all sense of his natural grace and falling helplessly into thin air, to the churning waves below -

"Ah! Luc! Where do you think you are headed now?" A strong arm snatched the boy back, wrapping quickly about his waist and pulling him to rights aboard the railing. Antonia's heart hammered in her chest, and she fought every instinct in her body not to hold the boy close, to just embrace him and thank a kindly God and all the loa that he had not gone overboard.

In the end, she did offer up that small, silent prayer of gratitude, but she did not hug him tightly to her as she so desperately wished. The crew would think him a ridiculous, spoilt child - and Luc would not thank her for the humiliation. Instead, she simply joined him on the deck rail, sitting now, her legs swinging lazily as if nothing could have possibly gone awry in the past few moments.

Luc - a happy, healthy child and, even now, just beginning to show the inkling of the man he would become - got over that harrowing moment rather quickly, smiling and content to see his beloved aunt for the first time since the morn. He missed entirely, the nod and the softening features the First Mate sent his way.

"Tante 'Tonia! I've missed you, and there's so much to tell! I was not sure you would ever come down from your perch up there!"

Antonia laughed, shaking her head. "I cannot spend the entire voyage aloft in the crow's nest, Luc." She pointed upward into the darkness, toward the height of the mast where the dark outline of another figure could be seen. Barlow had come to give her a respite, though he hadn't looked very happy with the prospect. She had managed a touch of a smile out of the kid, with the promise she would lay a wager for him on the Captain. Antonia was just superstitious enough, that she would do nothing of the sort on her own behalf - but she most certainly would not have laid a wager down for the helmsman, even if he'd asked it.

"Even I must come down on occasion - and besides, there is a contest afoot! The captain and the helmsman it seems, to climb the rigging... Though I must ask Luc, what in heaven's name were you thinking, that you would decide to take a walk off the deck rail?"

At the mention of the helmsman and the captain, Luc's face brightened like the sun - though his visage darkened once more when his aunt asked about his near tragic mishap, falling with the dejection of that remembered moment.

"Mademoiselle Beauchamp hates me Tante 'Tonia, and I do not know what I have done. I have not spoken out of turn, as Captain Lightfoot told me this morning. I have not been staring... Well, I mean of course I looked at her, but not so rudely I thought... " Antonia's heart broke as the boy's voice trailed off, the sadness on a face that should only ever know smiles and laughter making her want to hug Luc to her all over again, though she fought that sudden impulse once more.

"No, no sweet boy, she does not hate you! She simply does not know you. Not yet!" She glanced to the First Mate, and decided... No. Quite simply no, this woman could not possibly despise Luc, who was no more nor less than a good boy, her boy. Surely there had been some mistake, perhaps he was simply overtired and overwrought from his first long day at sea?

Yes, surely that must be it! Because who could possibly not love such a good, sincere child?

Luc peered up hopefully to his aunt, listening to her words with a wistful little half-smile. But it was not until he heard Monsieur Jax's call that Luc's jubilant smile broke like daybreak after a storm. Obviously the helmsman, in his equally obvious moment of distress, did not note the shadowy rogue beside the boy - but that was fine with Antonia. It would not be the first time after all, and she was only grateful to the man for restoring the boy's spirits in a single moment.

"Go on then," Antonia whispered, giving Luc an encouraging pat on his back as he jumped to the deck from the rail and swiftly wound his way through the growing crowd of sailors to Jax.

He did not dare look toward Nicolette but, without a single word, the boy pulled up in front of the helmsman, smiling so proudly. He reached beneath his shirt as those dark, amber-lit eyes gazed up to Jax, picking up the twine between thumb and forefinger about his neck and holding it out to the helmsman. The shark's tooth gleamed, slightly luminous in the moonlight, from its perch in the makeshift. Luc's grin somehow grew brighter still as he showed Monsieur Jax irrefutable proof, that the members of the Secret Cabin Boy Club did not simply abandon its own to the whims of fate!

Though honestly, if Captain Lightfoot too was a member of their secret club? Would he be giving Jax far too much of the essential good fortune needed to win? Was that really fair, or was it...

Luc shook his head swiftly, as if to clear it, before taking a deep breath and continuing to smile up at Jax expectantly. Some matters were simply too weighty for the ponderings of a young boy's mind.

Silently and unnoticed by Luc, the rogue approached the small but growing knot of people right behind the little boy, relieved to see his small, sweet spirit was not dampened at all with Jax - even in the presence of the lovely Nicolette who so unnerved him. She lay Barlow's wager of a piece of ivory scrimshaw on the captain, and then stayed back a ways, her arms folded over her chest easily, listening far more to the conversations about her than she ever spoke, as was her wont.

Thomas had finished climbing down the main mast with Antonia, and had bid her adieu with a smile and a dip of his head. On the Skate’s current tack there was little work to be done, as the sailors had easily set the fine ship to its best line, and the helm had an easy time of following course. Easy enough that Jax had relinquished his coveted position to another, and Thomas had no quarrel with this.

With his demeanor reorienting to that of a pirate captain as he moved away from the main mast, Thomas moved forward along the ship until he caught sight of a young sailor named Barlow. The boy, not a day older than sixteen, was aiding the boatswain, Mr. Davenport, in splicing a length of rope.

“Mr. Davenport,” Thomas said, stopping before the hardened senior-deckhand. “You’ll have to make do without Barlow for now, I need him in the nest.”

Barlow, with his youthful eyes, was second only to Antonia in the keenness of his vision, and he would do as the lookout during the evening’s leg of the sail. At mention of being needed aloft, Barlow’s shoulders slumped, and his face slacked with disappointment.

“Ah, but Captain, I was hoping to watch your contest with the helmsman.” Barlow said with a whine befitting his age and absent mind.

Davenport responded instantly, reaching over to the boy’s head with a gnarled hand, and cuffing him soundly.

“Have you taken a leave of your senses, boy? The cap’n needs you in the nest, and you’ll get yer sorry ass up there wivout a fuss, or I’ll gut you me’self to save the cap’n the trouble!”

Thomas merely stared at Barlow as the color drained from the youths face. With a slew of apologies and platitudes, Barlow leapt from his seat beside Davenport, and made off towards the main mast. Thomas didn’t watch him go.

Once the boy was gone, Davenport’s hard face split into a grin. “I never tire of scaring the green ones.”

Thomas chuckled. “I don’t know what I’d do without your formative influence on the ship, Davenport.”

Davenport wagged a piece of the rope he had been splicing towards Thomas. “Well, you’d be a lot poorer, that’s what I’d say. Worth my weight in gold, I am.”

“Gold, you say?” Thomas arched a playful eyebrow to the boatswain. “Perhaps, platina, but gold is pushing your luck.”

Davenport laughed, exposing a mouth full of neglected teeth. “You injure me cap’n.” Platinum was considered a worthless metal in the age of sail. “Silver, at least seems fair?”

Thomas shrugged. “I’ll give you bronze, and let us be done with it.”

“HA! Done.” Davenport said, returning his gaze to the rope. “Good luck tonight, Cap’n. The helmsman seems a wily fellow, so I can’t say you’ll have an easy time of it, but I’ve got a pouch of tobacco says you’ll best him.”

“Aye,” Thomas said, looking up into the forest of rope, cloth, and wood that was the rigging. “I know I won’t have an easy time of it. But I look forward to sharing the spoils of your wager with you later.”

Davenport winked a watery eye towards Thomas. “That’s the spirit, Cap’n.”

With a snort and a thin smile, Thomas left Davenport to his work. It was nearing time for the deed to be done, regardless of the outcome.

Thomas turned to see the majority of the crew gathering around the railings and decking that surrounded the main mast. Among them he caught sight of Antonia, Nicolette, and Jax. Off to the side he also noticed the boy Luc watching from a vantage amidst the shrouds of the aft mast.

He caught the boy’s gaze and gave him a small salute with his fingers before turning his attention back to the trio of the rogue, the first mate, and the helmsman. Thomas made his way through the crowd to the three, adjusting his hair into a small ponytail at the back of his head as he did so. Once he reached them, he smiled broadly.

“Well, are we ready for the evening’s entertainment?” He said to all three.

She did not press though she did see the dodge he made and it made her mouth twitch and her instincts prickle but she held her tongue. This man undid her at the drop of a hat and she was half worried about what she would hear if she pressed. So she let him summon the boy and nodded absently at him as she did her best not to agonize over what the helmsman wasn’t saying. She wasn’t very successful in not agonizing but she was successful in holding her tongue. This was a victory of sorts. She had been making so many mistakes lately, slipping up so often and saying things she regretted. To be able to hold her tongue and not pry filled her with something as close to ease as she ever got.

Her honeyed mouth found itself pulled into a faint smile, which to those who knew her and watched her expressions, was as significant as a full on grin for the dour First mate. Comfort in control, that was what Nicki needed. She could not control the world she could only control herself and that only sometimes.

When the Captain approached them as the boy as showing Jax something on a string under his shirt she straightened up and pulled her eyes from Jax’s shoulders which were only slightly less distracting than his chest and offered him a salute. She felt anxiety crawl up out from her belly to her skin as she fought to maintain her expression, as uncharacteristic as it was. Change was betrayal in this regard and she still hadn’t made accounting of her flight the night before.

“I am as ready as I can be, Captain.” She said. “But I confess I do not know the parameters of the contest which is a problem as I am apparently Monsieur Jax’s Second. Perhaps we can outline them before we begin?”

Not that she expected either of them to cheat or take advantage, but as the control she’s had over herself began to slip from her grasp she felt the need to exert it elsewhere.

Jax winked at the boy and was about to lean over and kiss that shark tooth. He wouldn’t say where he wanted that luck to go. A quick glance to Nicki said as much as his smile but not enough to let anyone know where he would send all the luck the tooth could manage. His smile grew with the hints of secret shared. But the Captain came. Jax kept his eyes on Luc as he laughed answering Thomas’s called. “I am here to entertain.”

Then the First Mate, her tone more official, yet as smooth as the night air, asked for, what did she ask for? Some outline. He looked to the Captain realizing he had no parameters. There were no rules of any kind he knew of. Jax stumbled realizing he asked her to be his second as some cover for just wanting her there and now he had to think what one even was.

He better think of something quickly.

“The new cabin boy here, Luc,” Jax winked to the boy again. “Will call the readies. Each of us will go to the riggings. Pick your side Captain.” Glancing to the main mast he noted the slight breeze from the south. He wondered which side he would choose. He leaned toward Luc and added loud enough for all to hear, “He does hold rank, you know.” He stood tall again and turned to face Nicki directly. “Each of us will have someone below to hold the rope.” Jax glanced to Antonia with a light in his eyes he didn’t try to hide.”Or cheer.” He looked back to Nicki and shrugged with a bit of a plea in his eyes. Then he looked to the boy. “At Luc’s shout we will climb and meet at the top.” He leaned down quick to the shark tooth and blew on the black sharp keepsake around the boy’s neck.

“Or,” Jax let his eyes move from Nicki to the Lightfooted Captain one, “I will wait, take a drink and kiss the moon until you get there.” He laughed and gestured toward the riggins. Let the Captain pick. And as he moved he managed to let his fingers show the Captain the flask of fine drink he had tucked in his pocket for the celebration they would share at the top.

"More than ready - though Barlow's still likely pouting some up there in the nest. I did lay his bet on you though, Silverfish. That ought to keep him happy enough - when you win this thing, of course." A swift, glinting flash in those laughing grey eyes still said that Thomas' victory was still anything but optional.

That did not mean she resisted giving him a laughing wink though, mouthing the words "Merci beaucoup" to her love, who had seen fit to ensure his lady was there to cheer him on.

Antonia's eyebrow arched in amusement though, arms still folded easily over her chest as she returned Jax' pointed gaze and wide smile without the least embarrassment. Captain Lightfoot had just yesterday, before his entire crew, announced his love for her - she hadn't the least shame on that fact. And her relieved embrace after Cooper's very timely demise said all the words Antonia did not in the moment, that she returned his all his affections to the last, in full.

But that did not mean she wanted the grinning helmsman with an earful of even one of those delectable, delightful moments they had only just shared. Antonia's smile never slipped, though she let a long breath of a sigh escape through her teeth.

Despite herself, the rogue's smile grew wider still when Jax summarily "promoted" Luc from mere cabin boy, to a crew member trustworthy enough to officiate the start of this race, and call them to ready. For all that she was a bit irritated with the man at the moment - well both men really, Jax and Thomas, unsure who had first decided the spoils of their wager - she was glad the helmsman helped make the close of Luc's first day at sea so full of laughter.

And truly, between Capitaine Lightfoot's salute - the captain saluting him! - and Monsieur Jax's giving him such a genuinely important task? Oh, Luc forgot almost entirely, his disappointment concerning the angelic Mademoiselle Beauchamp's attentions, even with the heavenly woman standing right beside them. He did not miss the pointed look the helmsman gave to his Tante 'Tonia, though he truly did not understand the import at all.

At least, not until after Monsieur Jax finished proclaiming that should he win handily, he would wait for Capitaine Lightfoot while kissing his beloved Lady Moon.

The boy's dark eyes widened, mouth falling open in a shocked little "o" as something very like horror crept over his face. His Tante 'Tonia unfolded her arms to step up to the captain, wrapped them around his neck and then... Then she kissed him! Luc felt that weird, kind of squidgy feeling in his belly, like when he caught his Maman and Papa in one of their endless, long kisses, because that was just...

The boy shuddered.

That was just gross!

"Just a little... Incentive." Antonia whispered in Thomas' ear as she pulled back a bit, "Pick your side, Captain Silverfish - and it'd best be the winning one... "

She nodded gravely, far more gravely than either of the contestants, over the terms of the contest. It was fair, the directions were clear and there would be no room for wiggling out of things. Not that she expected either man to need clear directions. For all that Jax was havoc on her nerves he was fair. But she felt better, more in control when things were laid out. He had asked her to be second after all, it was her job to look after his best interests. He could hardly have expected her to do less, could he?

“If the parameters are…” she looked to gain confirmation from the captain and then cut off when she saw him being kissed, heartily by Antonia. Her eyes widened and she looked away almost at the same time as the boy, though her expression was not so repulsed and she did not shudder. For all of that it was a display that was as welcome to her as it was to the boy. She did not mind the display on a personal level. She had no intentions regarding the captain and whatever it was that had begun to grow between them, to nascent to have a name, she wanted him to be happy. But the kiss for all that it might make him momentarily happy, it was not worth what it would bring.

Trouble, she thought and cast her eyes over the crew while her Captain was kissed. It was unlikely that Cooper had been the only one to have taken umbrage with the Captain’s pronouncement the day before. He was not the only one to think the Captain weak for his affections. He was certainly not the only one who disapproved of females on board. He had just been the most open about the matter.

She looked in the faces she could see for signs of sedition growing at the display but it was night and the lanterns, while lit, did not illuminate all. The moon, for all her beauty did not bless them with enough light for her to see growing treachery. She clenched her fingers into fists and ground her teeth. This was trouble and she would have to deal with it. She would have to keep her ears open for the fallout.

She cleared her throat and gestured forward. “If the Captain would choose his side so that Luc here can begin the contest.” She said and put her hand on the boy’s shoulder and gently squeezed having only just then noticed his reaction to the kiss, her touch telling him it was safe to look, the display was over.

Thomas was not expecting Antonia’s kiss, and for a moment his eyes were wide with surprise. He regained his senses in short enough order, returning the kiss with a scrunch of a smile folding the corners of his eyes.

When the rogue withdrew, and bade him choose his winning side, he chuckled, running a hand back over his hair and clearing his throat.

“Well, ah, yes…I suppose I should.” Thomas said.

His gaze moved over Jax, and then to the First Mate. The helmsman seemed as loose and nonchalant as he always did, while Nicolette appeared to be wound as tight as fresh rope. She stood rigidly with her hand on Luc’s shoulder, her jaw set with a distinct air of frustration and disapproval.

Thomas’ brow rose marginally as he guessed the subject of her irritation. He was no fool. She was concerned about the crew, about them seeing their captain being so openly involved with one of the two women aboard the ship. Thomas was sure that the men did not fault him for such an attraction, but what he did know is that not all would take kindly to the situation of the rogue being only his to embrace. Sharing, in all things, was a pillar of pirate life.

His own jaw set. Thomas recognized the inherent danger, the possibility that the loyalty and trust of his crew could fray at the openness of his love for Antonia. As he stood there, Thomas reflected that at so many times in one’s life there exists defining moments, times when a man can either stick to his guns, or cut the losses that may someday befall him.

Thomas snorted defiantly, as much to himself as anyone else. He stepped forward, reaching a hand up behind Antonia’s head to gently pull her to him for another kiss. Though he kept it short, there was passion in his lips, and he made no effort to hide it.

When he broke away, his copper eyes shown brilliantly in the low light of the fading sun. Some things, he thought as he smiled confidently to Antonia, are worth doubling-down for.

With that, Thomas spun and clasped Jax’s hand firmly in a pleasant shake. “I agree to your terms, and by Judas’ silver, may the best man win.”

Thomas released the man’s hand, and marched over to the port rope-shrouds of the main mast. As he neared the rail, he brought three fingers of his right hand up to his lips, kissed them, and then held them above his head like a trident. The salute of fortune to Neptune would be one that every pirate recognized, and Thomas displayed it proudly.

Finished with his homage, Thomas took a stance of readiness, looking back towards the main mast, and the boy Luc.

“On your mark, my dear boy!”

Jax’s eyes opened wide at the display of affection. What? A few days ago, wait just a two nights, he would have moaned with sure agony. Woman should not be aboard for that exact reason. Affection of that sort brings bad luck. Dust Skate would feel it. The ship is a hard mistress and a jealous one that will throw stormy seas, dead winds, or broken sails to those she feels betrays her. At least two nights ago Jax would have thought so. Things have changed. He had changed. Damn sea witches have shaken his core. To his great surprise there was a mix of envy as he watched the second kiss this time orchestrated by the Captain. Not that he wanted to kiss either of them, but... He looked to Nicki thinking of kisses. In her face he thought he saw her concern. Maybe. Would she watch that and think of him? No, she would worry about the crew. As she should. Still.

“Wait! Is that in the parameters?” He announced loudly. Jax pretended to almost reach for the First Mate with the intention of a kiss but in a dramatic flare so easy for Jax he spun instead to a crew mate who stood too close. It was Spice, who must have gotten the nickname from the silly scent he tried to cover his dirt ridden body with. Anytime, anything was going on Spice was there. He liked to be in the center of things in a good natured way. So Jax was sure he was a good pick.

With wide flung arms, quickly Jax placed one hand over Spices mouth and wrapped his other around him. Then he placed an over exaggerated smacking kiss on his hand over Spice’s mouth. Spice had the sense to keep his balance and hit his hands wildly over Jax’s back. With just as much drama, Jax let him go and grinned to Antonia.

With a nod to the Captain, with eyes that said he understood, he scurried to his side of the riggings and took hold. He grinned and answered loudly, “The best man ain’t even on board.”

Then he turned his head to offer his smile to Luc and he waited.

Antonia laughed and, for the very first time since she'd met the helmsman, returned Jax' smile genuinely, without the least hesitation. There was not a concern in her head that he was mocking her, or wondering if that grin held the least touch of lechery - though she did have a wonder whether dear, good-natured Spice might yet reconsider his hygiene, if the helmsman decided to go back for a repeat performance sans hand.

The rogue did not think of sailors' superstitions, nor the share-and-share-alike traditions of the pirate brotherhood. In truth, these considerations never once occurred to her. For all her worldly knowledge, for all the ugly, hard-learned understanding of human nature carved into her mind? Antonia simply did not have the years experience at sea that the vast majority of these men - and of course, Nicolette Beauchamp - possessed. All Antonia knew of this life, was the year she had spent aboard the Skate with these same sailors, sweating and fighting, toiling and killing right alongside them and, where needed before the First Mate's arrival? Splinting their broken bones and stitching wounds, sharing her own Maman's ancient ointments and salves where she might and even crafting not-a-few poppets, charms for love or retribution, at the bidding of a whisper in her ear.

If these things were not enough to secure her place in the crew's estimation, Antonia had not the least notion. But one thing she knew damn well, for all Jax' jest: the best man the rogue had ever known certainly was on board, this very moment. The message in that confident, reassuring smile from Thomas was all she needed. Win? Lose? Psh... His kiss brushed away all concern for either in this race he and Jax engineered. Antonia stepped back some paces, grey eyes lit with quiet approval for Thomas' salute (and a few silent words beseeching Mami Wata's blessings under her own breath) before her gaze turned to Luc.

Luc's young mind had reeled, caught somewhere between horror and ecstasy. Tante 'Tonia had kissed the captain, which was bad enough even if it was over quickly. But then? Then he kissed her back! The boy cringed all over again. So. Gross!

As if he were not thrown completely enough anyway, those dark, amber-lit eyes widened appreciably when he followed the length of the solid, strong hand, past the elbow to the shoulder, all the way to that sternly beautiful face? The boy felt his knees go all gushy.

Whoa...

Suddenly he wondered if, well... If maybe that whole kissing thing was truly all that off-putting. And in that same moment, something clicked quickly in young Luc's mind, a thing he could not possibly know was a familial gift for finding the most golden of opportunities in any given moment. No matter those suddenly jiggly knees, Luc's smaller hand reached up to gently pat the First Mate's hand at his shoulder, beaming a sweetly reassuring smile up to her, one that promised he had fully regained his proverbial footing.

"Merci, Mademoiselle Beauchamp," he said, his voice laced with a gentlemanly courtesy decades older than his mere eight years, and gave a small, gallant bow to the First Mate. For a brief moment, he thought of taking that incomparably fair hand and laying a soft kiss to the back of her fingers, but decided swiftly he probably ought not push his luck.

Luc stepped swiftly to the space between the two men, the captain and the helmsman, smiling up at both of them in turn. "Gentlemen!" he shouted, his voice piping well above the sound of surf about the Skate. "On your mark!"

Luc held both arms high over his head. "Get SET!"

The boy's arms fell swiftly to his sides though his head tilted back to the night sky overhead, his voice sailing to the captain's shimmering Home Star, and the helmsman's beloved Lady Moon.

"GO!