Zoya came on deck into the scene of increasing agitation. Behind them the storm clouds were thickening, beginning to pile up on the horizon. The sea was beginning to roll beneath their feet with the promise of the squall to come. The captain was on the quarter deck, staring back at the approaching weather with a frown on his face. Gil didn't want to fight, but neither was he willing to allow himself to be embarrassed in font of his mates. 

"I aint afraid of no fancy pants thief fondler," he blustered, "you wanna fight we will fight." The sailors cheered and they began to form a ring on the foredeck. The bosun tried to break it up but quickly gave it up as the excited sailors crowded him out. Coins clattered to the deck as bets were placed. 

"No blades!" one of the older sailors shouted, then pulled to yard long belaying pins from the bulwark and tossed them to the deck between the putative combatants. Gil snatched up one of the belaying pins and slapped it into his palm.

"Going to back off if you cant use your fancy knives?" Gil taunted.

"Gentlemen!" Zoya tried to call, but the sailors shouted her down, keeping a tight shoulder to shoulder ring around the fighters.

"Best let it go," the Captain, suddenly at her shoulder advised her. "We need this over and done with fast so we can get men aloft to reef sail."