Markus mouth was full of sausage and eggs, still slightly bleary eyed from sleep. Finally they had begun their journey to Ind, with only one pit stop along the way. Had it not been for the various business meetings they would had left earlier, and now he would be disappointed yet again once Morgan strode in. He didn't blame the man. The quartermaster did his duty as any good quartermaster would, but it wasn't the news Markus wanted to hear. 

"They did have some land time in Sartosa," Markus corrected, but Emmaline shook her blonde head. "No, you had them stay put while conducting business." 

Markus opened his mouth, and then closed it when he realized his woman and first mate were right. Dammit, now? Really? His first thought was to get up and go scare them a bit, but he cowed the urge. He knew they needed some time off. Blowing off steam was what any pirate needed, just as Markus had done killing those thugs that had attacked he and Emmaline. He refused to go off course again, but perhaps there could be a compromise. He did need some rum himself, anyway. 

Moments later, Markus and Morgan pulled out the map of the Arabyan Gulf, tracing fingers across the paper to see where their course was to lead. The waters of Araby weren't treacherous (near the coast) save for pirates, and that wouldn't necessarily be a disadvantage to them in so many words. 

"Copher?" Morgan mumbled. "Been there before. The City of Spices, they call it." 

"Lashiek," Emmaline pipped in, drawing their gazes. When Markus gazed at her questioningly, she added. "City of Corsairs." 

"Hmmm, very well then." Markus replied. "We'll take a 3 day trip to Lashiek. Let the lads do what they want, fuck who they want, give them their shares. But then they're going to haul ass across the great water to the new world or I'll keelhaul all of them."