Aye Aye Captain Quotes

Smee, you are a supreme idjit." "Aye, Cap'n.

Mr. Gibbs: Curse you for breathin' ya slack-jawed idiot. Mother's love. Jack. You should know better than to wake a man when he's sleepin'. Its bad luck. Jack Sparrow: Fortunately, I know how to counter it; the man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink; the man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition from the man who did the waking. Mr. Gibbs: Aye, that'll about do it.

Aye, Captain. I have a good memory. Except for the amnesia.

These Outwallers that killed Hector - the Sossag - they were serving a Power of the Wild called Thorn. Aye?" "Naming calls. But yes." The captain drank. "So I call him and he comes and I gut him," Tom said. "So?

Aye, ‘tis a legend. Yet, ‘tis also true. Cause that ship sailed under a different name once. Her name was Banshee’s Cry, and she was a fine ship. She was … my ship. Captain Daniel 'Drake' Davies.

Aye, Captain!” With little effort, he swept me up and hoisted me over his shoulder, knocking the air out of me. “Shore leave!” he shouted as he trotted down the gangplank. “Kashmir!” “Ah!” he said as I pounded him on the back. “That was my kidney!” “Put me down,” I said breathlessly, “or I’ll take out the other one!” “You should know, amira,” he said, emphasizing the Persian accent he often kept hidden. “We don’t negotiate with terrorists!

You want to take a shower while I’m looking?” He squints and holds up a finger. “That came out wrong. While I’m looking for wood. In the forest.” I snort a little laugh. “Or the other thing,” he says. “Just get the firewood.” His smile is playful. “If you change your mind, holler.” “Aye, aye, Captain.

Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such a day - very much such a sweetness as this - I struck my first whale - a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty - forty - forty years ago! - ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain's exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without - oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command! - when I think of all this; only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before - and how for forty years I have fed upon dry salted fare - fit emblem of the dry nourishment of my soul - when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily hand, and broken the world's fresh bread to my mouldy crusts - away, whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage pillow - wife? wife? - rather a widow with her husband alive! Aye, I widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly chased his prey - more a demon than a man! - aye, aye! what a forty years' fool - fool - old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase? why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance? how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God! - crack my heart! - stave my brain! - mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearth-stone! this is the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no; stay on board, on board! - lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with the far away home I see in that eye!

I hate you, Bane. You live only to suck all the joy out of me death, don’t you?” He snorted. “Pray that joy is the only thing I ever strive to divest from you, my friend. The day I seek greater entertainment than that is the day you should live in absolute terror of.” “Duly noted, and me testicles have adequately shriveled back into me body so as to pose positively no threat whatsoever to the fair maiden in boy’s clothing.” “Good man.” “Eunuch, you mean.” “And well you should remain, lest I make that condition a permanent one.” “Aye, aye, Captain.

This was to be my last trip. Sailing great distances was dangerous, and not very profitable in today's world. I walked down the worn wooden step to the captain's cabin, the creaking of the ship keeping time with my steps. Opening the door I found him bent over an old map. "Where are we captain?" I asked, hoping it was close to home. "See this spot, where it says "Here there be monsters"?" he said pointing to an image of a horrid beast. "Certainly, but you and I both know such creatures don't exist!!" The captain laughed, and looking up at me with an evil glint in his eye said, "Who's talking about sea monsters?". As he spoke the skin from one corner of his mouth fell loose, exposing a yellow reptilian skin beneath. "What?" I yelled, and as I turned to run for the cabin door I heard screams and loud moans coming from the deck, and the crew quarters below. I felt fetid breath on the back of my neck, "Aye matey, here there be monsters

Except people who have no respect for the alphabet! And they’re not here! Are they?” “No,” Klaus said. “We have a great deal of respect for the alphabet.” “I should say so!” the captain cried. “Klaus Baudelaire disrespect the alphabet? Why, it’s unthinkable! Aye! It’s illegal! It’s impossible! It’s not true! How dare you say so! No—you didn’t say so! I apologize! One thousand pardons! Aye!

You could live your life among the sirens and leave this all behind you.” I smile and turn to him. “You and my mother are both missing one important thing.” “What’s that?” “I love being a pirate, and there’s nothing I want to be more.” He relaxes considerably. “Thank the stars. I was trying so hard to be supportive and forget what I want most.” “And what’s that?” Those beautiful brown eyes glint. “You.” “Have you decided you want to be a permanent member of the crew, then?” I tease. “Aye, Captain.” He lifts the tricorne off my head and runs his fingers through my hair. “I’ll sail with you anywhere. I don’t care where we go or what we do as long as I’m with you.” “Could be dangerous.” “You’ll protect me.” He leans in and kisses me. So slowly it’s maddening. When he pulls back, I say, “I run a tight ship, sailor. I expect the rules to be followed.” “What rules would those be?” “All men are required to keep a couple days’ worth of stubble on their chins. Makes them look more fearsome. Better pirates, you see.” He grins so widely, I can feel my heart melt. “I had no idea you liked it so much.” He brings his lips to my ear. “You needn’t make a rule and trouble the other men. I’ll do it if you ask nicely.” His lips trail down my neck and I shiver. “Anything else?” he asks. “I need to see you in my quarters for the rest.” “Aye-aye.

Permission to go ashore, Captain?” “Aye,” came the sullen reply, “you and the wench can leave by way of the plank.” Kathleen frowned. “Kindly do not refer to me as a wench, Cassandra.” “It’s better than ‘bilge rat,’” Pandora said in a surly tone. “Which is the term I would have used.” After giving her a chiding glance, Kathleen returned to the graveled walk, with Devon by her side. “Well?” she asked after a moment. “Aren’t you going to criticize as well?” “I can’t think of anything to add to ‘bilge rat.

Lost,” the captain repeated. “I am surely that.” “Yet you and I, Lull, we are lost late in our lives. Look upon the children, and despair.” “How to answer this? I must know, Duiker, else I go mad.” “Sleight of hand,” the historian said. “What?” “Think of the sorcery we’ve seen in our lives, the vast, unbridled, deadly power we’ve witnessed unleashed. Driven to awe and horror. Then think of a trickster—those you saw as a child—the games of illusion and artifice they could play out with their hands, and so bring wonder to your eyes.” The captain was silent, motionless. Then he rose. “And there’s my answer?” “It’s the only one I can think of, friend. Sorry if it’s not enough.” “No, old man, it’s enough. It has to be, doesn’t it?” “Aye, that it does.” “Sleight of hand.” The historian nodded. “Ask for nothing more, for the world—this world—won’t give it.” “But where will we find such a thing?” “Unexpected places,” Duiker replied, also rising. Somewhere ahead, shouts rose and the convoy resumed its climb once more. “If you fight both tears and a smile, you’ll have found one.

Sir!’ said the captain again. ‘I insist that you head towards Bordeaux.’ He showed signs of advancing upon them; one of the crew behind him began to pull the boat-hook clear, and it would be a dangerous weapon. Hornblower pulled one of the pistols from his belt and pointed it at the captain, who, with the muzzle four feet from his breast, fell back before the gesture. Without taking his eyes off him Hornblower took a second pistol with his left hand. ‘Take this, Matthews,’ he said. ‘Aye aye, sir,’ said Matthews, obeying; and then, after a respectful pause, ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but hadn’t you better cock your pistol, sir?

You haven’t been relieved,” Captain MacWhirr went on, looking down. “I want you to stick to the helm, though, as long as you can. You’ve got the hang of her. Another man coming here might make a mess of it. Wouldn’t do. No child’s play. And the hands are probably busy with a job down below... Think you can?” The steering-gear leaped into an abrupt short clatter, stopped smouldering like an ember; and the still man, with a motionless gaze, burst out, as if all the passion in him had gone into his lips: “By Heavens, sir! I can steer for ever if nobody talks to me.” “Oh! aye! All right...” The Captain lifted his eyes for the first time to the man, “... Hackett.

Captain O’ Devir… I did not hear you come in.” He put the plate down on the table in front of her and moved away, not wanting her to know he’d been gazing wistfully down at her, admiring her beauty, softening—a dangerous thing, that—as he thought of her family. Instantly, he made his tone gruff. Irritable. “Aye, ye’d not have heard me, because I’d a mind to keep quiet. Here. I brought ye breakfast. Caught and cooked it meself, just as I promised.” She looked up at him, blinking. And then she smiled, a true and radiant thing that lit him up from the inside out, and Ruaidri felt everything inside of him melt. He turned away, quickly, before she could see that that smile had completely undone him.

But Kathleen," Cassandra pleaded, "we've had no amusement for so long." "Of course you haven't," Kathleen said, steeling herself against a stab of guilt. "People aren't supposed to have amusements when they're in mourning." The twins fell silent, glowering at her. Devon broke the tension by asking Cassandra lightly, "Permission to go ashore, Captain?" "Aye," came the sullen reply, "you and the wench can leave by way of the plank." Kathleen frowned. "Kindly do not refer to me as a wench, Cassandra." "It's better than 'bilge rat,'" Pandora said in a surly tone. "Which is the term I would have used." After giving her a chiding glance, Kathleen returned to the graveled walk, with Devon by her side. "Well?" she asked after a moment. "Aren't you going to criticize as well?" "I can't think of anything to add to 'bilge rat.

Piracy, Hollywood Style: An Ode to Errol Flynn His galleon emblazoned and beckoned to the coral’s black mire, And ol’ wispy eyed Errol, the pirate, stiffened his lip: Her Majesty’s Rogue Navy may have set ol’ Bessie afire— But I’d be a fool to go down and drown with me ship!” “Fer, a pirate I am, and A pirate I’ll be, I don’t need to die ‘proper’ with false dignity— All I need is a new ship, and a flagon of ale. The latter to drown in, the former to sail! “Aye! Give me a strong wind, and twenty good men, And I’ll take to the high seas, and pirate again! And should I be lucky to spot a Royal ship in me scope— I’ll hang her good captain from ten yards of rope! “Aye! And when her cowardly crew gives me their lip, I’ll give them the ‘dignity’ to go down with their ship! Aye! Give me a strong wind and twenty good men, And I’ll take to the high seas, and pirate again!

I know what you’re thinking, Gray,” O’Shea’s brogue lilted down through the skylight one warm morning, while Sophia was hard at work. Mr. Grayson responded, a raw longing in his voice. “Aye. It would be so easy to take her.” Sophia nearly dropped her quill. “We’ve the advantage of the wind,” O’Shea said. “And a faster ship,” Gray replied. “We’d be on her stern in no time.” Ships. Sophia breathed again. They were speaking of ships. “Those were the days.” O’Shea gave a low whistle. “One cannonball to the rudder…” “Wouldn’t even need that. She’d accept our terms with little more than a signal shot and a smile.” She could hear that smile in his voice. He continued, “Cannons are for amateurs. Seizing a ship intact…it’s all in the approach. From the moment that sail appears on the horizon, you act as though it’s already yours. All that remains is to inform the other captain.

Will you need assistance with the boilers, as well?” “I can manage those on my own, but we’ll need two wheelbarrow loads of wood to fuel the fireboxes. There’s a barrow out by the woodshed. If you would start loading it while I move the boilers down to the pond, that would save considerable time.” “Aye, aye, Captain.” Nicole clicked her heels together and snapped a salute. Her employer seemed a bit nonplussed by her actions until she winked at him and allowed the smile she’d been fighting to bloom across her face. He laughed then and gave her a playful push in the direction of the shed. “Hop to, sailor, before I make you walk the plank for insubordination.” Nicole scurried away, giving her best imitation of a cowed crew member, bowing and scraping as she trotted over the packed dirt of the yard. Darius’s deep chuckles followed her, the rich sound warming a place inside her that she hadn’t even realized had been cold.

Tis my Mary, my Mary herself! She promised that my boy, every morning, should be carried to the hill to catch the first glimpse of his father's sail! Yes, yes! no more! it is done! we head for Nantucket! Come, my Captain, study out the course, and let us away! See, see! the boy's face from the window! the boy's hand on the hill!" But Ahab's glance was averted; like a blighted fruit tree he shook, and cast his last, cindered apple to the soil. "What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozzening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is as an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. And all the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea! Look! see yon Albicore! who put it into him to chase and fang that flying-fish? Where do murderers go, man! Who's to doom, when the judge himself is dragged to the bar? But it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky; and the air smells now, as if it blew from a far-away meadow; they have been making hay somewhere under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and the mowers are sleeping among the new- mown hay. Sleeping? Aye, toil we how we may, we all sleep at last on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amid greenness; as last year's scythes flung down, and left in the half-cut swaths - Starbuck!" But blanched to a corpse's hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away.

was dog-tired when, a little before dawn, the boatswain sounded his pipe and the crew began to man the capstan-bars. I might have been twice as weary, yet I would not have left the deck, all was so new and interesting to me—the brief commands, the shrill note of the whistle, the men bustling to their places in the glimmer of the ship's lanterns. "Now, Barbecue, tip us a stave," cried one voice. "The old one," cried another. "Aye, aye, mates," said Long John, who was standing by, with his crutch under his arm, and at once broke out in the air and words I knew so well: "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—" And then the whole crew bore chorus:— "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!" And at the third "Ho!" drove the bars before them with a will. Even at that exciting moment it carried me back to the old Admiral Benbow in a second, and I seemed to hear the voice of the captain piping in the chorus. But soon the anchor was short up; soon it was hanging dripping at the bows; soon the sails began to draw, and the land and shipping to flit by on either side; and before I could lie down to snatch an hour of slumber the HISPANIOLA had begun her voyage to the Isle of Treasure. I am not going to relate that voyage in detail. It was fairly prosperous. The ship proved to be a good ship, the crew were capable seamen, and the captain thoroughly understood his business. But before we came the length of Treasure Island, two or three things had happened which require to be known. Mr. Arrow, first of all, turned out even worse than the captain had feared. He had no command among the men, and people did what they pleased with him. But that was by no means the worst of it, for after a day or two at sea he began to appear on deck with hazy eye, red cheeks, stuttering tongue, and other marks of drunkenness. Time after time he was ordered below in disgrace. Sometimes he fell and cut himself; sometimes he lay all day long in his little bunk at one side of the companion; sometimes for a day or two he would be almost sober and attend to his work at least passably. In the meantime, we could never make out where he got the drink. That was the ship's mystery. Watch him as we pleased, we could do nothing to solve it; and when we asked him to his face, he would only laugh if he were drunk, and if he were sober deny solemnly that he ever tasted anything but water. He was not only useless as an officer and a bad influence amongst the men, but it was plain that at this rate he must soon kill himself outright, so nobody was much surprised, nor very sorry, when one dark night, with a head sea, he disappeared entirely and was seen no more. "Overboard!" said the captain. "Well, gentlemen, that saves the trouble of putting him in irons." But there we were, without a mate; and it was necessary, of course, to advance one of the men. The boatswain, Job Anderson, was the likeliest man aboard, and though he kept his old title,

Christopher observed the passage of the coach from his sight and then turned his gaze to the pair of men who approached them. It was Farrell and Captain Daniels, and while the latter was smiling broadly, the former frowned in sharp disapproval at the couple. Christopher thrust out a hand in greeting to his captain, then looked to his wife’s brother. “Farrell, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Christopher smiled as he extended his hand. “I am Lord Saxton.” The young man’s eyes widened, and he searched the softly smiling visage of his sister as he mechanically accepted the hand. “Lord Saxton? The Lord Saxton?” “Aye, I am the one who wore the mask and walked with a limp,” Christopher confessed. “ ’Twas done partly to fool the thieves into believing the man they had murdered was still alive, and then too, I desired to wed your sister and found no other way. I hope you will value the friendship we began when you knew me as the cripple.” Farrell tried to grasp all the facts and put them together in their proper places. “You are really married to my sister, and you are the father of her…” Erienne blushed as she glanced hesitantly toward the sea captain, who seemed to be enjoying the whole exchange. His smile broadened as her husband gave a reply. “You needn’t sharpen your skill with firearms to avenge your sister’s honor,” Christopher replied. The teasing gleam in his eyes shone brighter. “ ’Twas quite properly made, I assure you.” -Christopher & Farrell

Slowly crossing the deck from the scuttle, Ahab leaned over the side, and watched how his shadow in the water sank and sank to his gaze, the more and the more that he strove to pierce the profundity. But the lovely aromas in that enchanted air did at last seem to dispel, for a moment, the cankerous thing in his soul. That glad, happy air, that winsome sky, did at last stroke and caress him; the step-mother world, so long cruel - forbidding - now threw affectionate arms round his stubborn neck, and did seem to joyously sob over him, as if over one, that however wilful and erring, she could yet find it in her heart to save and to bless. From beneath his slouched hat Ahab dropped a tear into the sea; nor did all the pacific contain such wealth as that one wee drop. Starbuck saw the old man; saw him, how he heavily leaned over the side; and he seemed to hear in his own true heart the measureless sobbing that stole out of the centre of the serenity around. Careful not to touch him, or be noticed by him, he yet drew near to him, and stood there. Ahab turned. "Starbuck!" "Sir." "Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such a day - very much such a sweetness as this - I struck my first whale - a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty - forty - forty years ago! - ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain's exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without - oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command! - when I think of all this; only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before - and how for forty years I have fed upon dry salted fare - fit emblem of the dry nourishment of my soul - when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily hand, and broken the world's fresh bread to my mouldy crusts - away, whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage pillow - wife? wife? - rather a widow with her husband alive! Aye, I widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly chased his prey - more a demon than a man! - aye, aye! what a forty years' fool - fool - old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase? why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance? how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God! - crack my heart! - stave my brain! - mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearth-stone! this is the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no; stay on board, on board! - lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with the far away home I see in that eye!

Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such a day- very much such a sweetness as this- I struck my first whale- a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty- forty- forty years ago!- ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain’s exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without- oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!- when I think of all this; only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before- and how for forty years I have fed upon dry salted fare- fit emblem of the dry nourishment of my soul!- when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily hand, and broken the world’s fresh bread to my mouldy crusts- away, whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage pillow- wife? wife?- rather a widow with her husband alive? Aye, I widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly chased his prey- more a demon than a man!- aye, aye! what a forty years’ fool- fool- old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase? why weary, and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance? how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God!- crack my heart!- stave my brain!- mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearthstone! this is the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no; stay on board, on board!- lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with the far away home I see in that eye!” “Oh, my Captain! my Captain! noble soul! grand old heart, after all! why should any one give chase to that hated fish! Away with me! let us fly these deadly waters! let us home! But Ahab’s glance was averted; like a blighted fruit tree he shook, and cast his last, cindered apple to the soil. “What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike.

So here you are again. Can’t get enough of me, eh?” “Do you know, Captain, I think you take a great and perverse delight in irritating me.” “Aye, I might indeed.” “And so, because I have an equal desire to irritate you, I am not going to respond to your baiting.” “’ Tis a pity, that. I rather like it when ye’re irritated. The way yer eyes flash. The way yer mouth makes a tight line and the roses bloom in yer cheeks.” “All the more reason not to let your odious presence affect me.” “You accuse me of not thinkin’, Lady Nerissa. But I can’t help it. Thinkin’, that is. Thinkin’ that if ye found me so objectionable, ye’d have stayed in the cabin and not sought me out here on deck, eh?” “Yes, well, I am bored.” “’ Tis a pity, that. I have no balls, soirees, fancy dinners or silken sheets to offer ye. Ye’ll have to make do until ye get back to yer fancy lifestyle.” “And how am I supposed to ‘make do’? I have no maid. I have no change of clothing. I am a prisoner.” “Life’s what ye make of it. Ever been on a ship before, Sunshine?” She snorted in contempt. “Of course not.” “Why not?” “What reason would I have to be on a ship? I live out in the country. I do not go anywhere, except to London once in a while or for the Season. I have no need to go anywhere.” “That’s yer life?” “It is a very good life,” she said defensively. “Ah, well, then. I can see why ye’re bored, I can.

Munro." Logan turned his head from side to side, seeking the surgeon. "Munro, do you see this woman besides me?" "Aye," Munro answered. "I see her." "You see how bonny she is?" Maddie blushed. "Aye," the surgeon said, smiling. "I do." "Well, we've beein married for weeks now," Logan said lifting his head groggily. "I've only bedded her the one night. And I'll be damned if that night will be the last. You had better mend me, Munro. I have a lot of pleasuring to do." "Understood, Captain.

Finlander: Fire Control. Ralston: Sir. Finlander: Arm number one ASROC. Ralston: Aye aye, sir. Number one ASROC armed and ready sir. Schrepke: Captain you are a fool! Munceford: Finlander, leave it alone. Finlander: Take it easy Ralston. Ralston: All systems in automatic control, sir. Weapons armed and ready. Finlander: Take it easy. Ralston: Fire Control a-ok sir. All systems armed and ready. Schrepke: This is insane! Finlander: Now don't worry Commodore. The Bedford will never fire first. But if he fires one I'll fire one. Ralston: Fire one!

of the cup. “Mmmfff!” “Swallow,” he said, clapping a hand tightly across my mouth and ignoring both my frenzied squirming and the muffled sounds of protest I was making. He was a lot stronger than I was, and he didn’t mean to let go. It was swallow or strangle. I swallowed. “Good as new.” Jamie finished polishing the silver ring on his shirttail and held it up, admiring it in the glow of the lantern. “That is somewhat better than can be said of me,” I replied coldly. I lay in a crumpled heap on the deck, which in spite of the placid current, seemed still to be heaving very slightly under me. “You are a grade-A, double-dyed, sadistic fucking bastard, Jamie Fraser!” He bent over me and smoothed the damp hair off my face. “I expect so. If ye feel well enough to call me names, Sassenach, you’ll do. Rest a bit, aye?” He kissed me gently on the forehead and sat back. Excitement over and order restored to the ravaged decks, the other men had gone back to the cabin to restore themselves with the aid of a bottle of applejack that Captain Freeman had contrived to save from the pirates by dropping it into the water barrel. A small cup of this beverage rested on the deck near my head; I was still too queasy to countenance swallowing anything, but the warm, fruity smell was mildly comforting. We were under sail; everyone was eager to get away, as though some danger still lingered over the place of the attack. We were moving faster, now; the usual small cloud of insects that hovered near the lanterns had dispersed, reduced to no more than a few lacewings resting on the beam above, their delicate green bodies casting tiny streaks of shadow. Inside the cabin, there was a small burst of laughter, and an answering growl

Stevie: Aye, aye, captain. Greer: I CAN’T HEAR YOU! Stevie: What? Greer: Oh. I thought we were doing a SpongeBob thing. Never mind. Stevie: Ooooooooh. Greer: WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA? Stevie: We’re still not doing it.

Why isn’t the captain of your guard traveling with us…with you?” He chuckled in response. “He stays behind with my men to guard Munro lands in my absence. I can nae leave my clan and lands unprotected.” “I understand, but what about your safety?” “Now lass, ye would nae be questioning my prowess on the battlefield, would ye?” When she took a sharp intake of breath, he smiled, and she realized he was jesting. “Many men will nae approach or engage me because of my looks. Ye witnessed that nae long ago with the Sutherland guard. Sometimes being nae fair of face has its advantages.” “I believe true beauty comes from within, and I don’t think men stay away from you because you think you are not a comely man. I’m certain their behavior has more to do with the fact that you’re the size of a mountain.” Brushing her skirts, Elizabeth wiped off imaginary dirt. “How many days will you be staying with us before you and my brothers-in-law attend court?” “I doona know. It depends on when we arrive, a few days mayhap.” “Have you been to court before?” “Aye, more times than I care to count.” There was strong censure in his tone. “I’ve never had the chance. Grace attended a few times, and then we moved to Scotland.” “Ye’re nae missing anything. In truth, ’tis nay place for a young lass.” “Then I guess I’m in luck because I’m eighteen now.” When a questioning expression crossed his face, she quickly rose. She wasn’t certain what provoked her sudden flare of temper, but between Uncle Walter, Grace, and the unexplained emotions raging within her about Ian, her voice became laced with sarcasm. “It’s getting late and past the bedtime for a young lass.” Ian flew to his feet. For such a large man, he moved faster than she would’ve expected. He loomed over her and grabbed her arm to stay her. “Wait. That’s nae what I meant.” There was a heavy silence. “Then what did you mean?” When he didn’t respond and released his grip, she met his gaze. “Have a pleasant evening, Laird Munro.” She turned on her heel and did not look back. As she walked away, she almost laughed at the irony. That’s what she should’ve done years ago. At least now she was determined to leave the past where it belonged. She was traveling home to England, and that’s where her future lie.

You’re a pirate?” Obviously. Still, hard to believe. He pressed forward, forcing on her a series of blows meant to test her strength and will. She parried and blocked his every move with an aptitude that amazed. “Aye. A pirate, and captain of the Sea Sprite,” she boasted, a wry smile upon her full lips. Indeed, she appeared very much a pirate in her men’s garb—a threadbare, brown suit with overly long sleeves she’d had to roll up. Her ebony hair had been pulled back in a queue and was half hidden beneath a rumpled tricorn. Also, like her men, was her look of desperation and the grim cast to her countenance that bespoke of a hard existence. “We offered you quarter,” she said as she evaded his thrust with ease. “Why didn’t you surrender? You had to know we outnumbered you.” He didn’t answer. In all honesty, he’d thought they could defeat the pirates, if not with cannon fire, then with skill. After hearing of all the pirate attacks of late, they’d hired on additional hands, men who could fight. If it hadn’t been for the damn illness… “It’s not too late. You can save what’s left of your crew. Surrender now, Captain Glanville, and we’ll see that your men are ransomed back.” A wicked gleam brightened her eyes as if victory would soon be hers. He should do as she asked. It would be the sensible thing, but pride kept him from saying the words. Not yet. He still had another opponent to defeat, and so far she hadn’t been an easy one to overcome. Despite his steady attack, she kept her muscles relaxed, her balance sure. Her attention followed his movements no matter how small, adjusting her stance, looking for weaknesses. “How do you know I’m Captain Glanville?” When work was at hand, he didn’t dress any differently than his men. “I know much about you.” Stepping clear of two men battling to their left, she blocked his sword with her own and lunged with her dagger. He jumped from the blade, avoiding injury by the barest inch. This one relied on speed and accuracy rather than power. Smart woman. “What do you want from us?” he asked, launching an attack of his own, this time with so much force and speed, she had no choice but to retreat until her back came up against the railing. “We only just left London four days ago. Our cargo is mainly iron and ale.” Her gaze sharpened even as her expression became strained. His assault was wearing her down. “I want the Ruby Cross.” How the hell did she know he had the cross? And did she believe he’d simply hand it over? Hand over a priceless antiquity of the Knights Templar? Absurd. He swung his sword all the harder. The clang of steel rang through the air. Her reactions slowed, and her arms trembled. He made a final cut, putting all his strength behind the blow, and knocked her sword from her hand. Triumph surged through his veins. She attempted to slash out with her dagger. He grabbed her arm before her blade could reach him and hauled her close, their faces nose to nose. “You’ll never take the cross from me,” he vowed as he towered over her, his grip strong. The point of a sword touched his back. Thomas tensed, he swore beneath his breath, self-disgust heavy in his chest. The distraction of this one woman had sealed his fate. Bloody hell.

Everything going well in here?” Steve asked, stepping into the room to check their progress. “Moving like a runaway freight train,” Cassie assured him. “Then slow down. There’s no need to rush.” “Aye, aye, Captain,” she teased. He smiled and returned to the kitchen, where he was laying down linoleum with George. “Steve says that at the pace we’re

There he spotted a letter written in the spiky alphabet of the northerners. He snatched it up and ran back to the bed, shaking Tom from his slumber. Tom rubbed his face blearily, blinking around him in confusion with eyes tinged in red before he scowled in annoyance. “What?” he rumbled. Jon shoved the letter into his hand. “The captain is down at the ship, getting her ready to leave tomorrow,” he said, his heart skipping in his chest. “Does this have anything to do with it?” After swiping at his face again, Tom focused on the letter. A deep crease formed in his forehead, and when he looked back up at him, Jon saw deep concern. “Aye, lad,” said Tom quietly. “Seems we’re headed north. Far north.

When Jon saw the pain in Tom’s eyes, he believed his words. Tom had also wanted to distance himself from Jon and the captain so as to remove temptation that would earn him some more stripes. (Are you still afraid of the whip, Tom? asked Jon. Aye, love. Now and always, answered the big man.) Tom had taken up work at the Jewel doing maintenance and repairs and had recently been promoted to warehouse manager, a position that Tom thought suited him well. (Well… mostly liftin’ boxes and yellin’ at folks, answered Tom truthfully to Jon’s question. Same as on board, really.) Tom had given strict instructions to everyone he knew not to let Baltsaros know of his whereabouts.

Some of the old-timers reached out to pat Tom’s shoulder as he made his way down the deck while the newer shipmates just peered curiously at the tattooed sailor that was built like an ox. However, when Tom started bellowing, everyone jumped quickly to obey. “All right ye lot o’ bleedin’ twats, move yer asses. Shore up that fuckin’ clutter and tighten those lines, ye bilge rat. Aye! I’ll drown ye meself if ye don’t heed, boy…” Jon grinned, listening to the first mate yell out orders in his nonstop, rolling mainland accent that was thickly peppered with cursing and laughter. He looked out over the calm water and took a deep breath. Jon knew there would be trying times in the coming months, both from inside the ship and from without, but at this precise moment in time, he felt he could face anything. Jon picked up the bag that Tom had dumped unceremoniously beside him and trotted to the captain’s quarters to throw it inside. With a glance up at the tall, dark man above him on the quarterdeck, Jon smiled. There was nowhere he would rather be.

Jon looked between Tom and Baltsaros. Captain? Him? “Listen, love: if ye can pretend to be an emperor and a god, ye sure as hells can pretend to be a lowly boat captain,” said Tom with a chuckle. “Lowly?” smirked the captain, a spark of his old self in the curl of his lips. Jon shook his head. “I don’t know. Captain Jon doesn’t sound very impressive,” he laughed. The idea had merit though. He could see himself shouldering part of the responsibility with Baltsaros’s counselling and Tom’s fists. Not quite a figurehead… and it would be temporary. “Aye, but Captain Jon, The Black Brigand is a great fuckin’ pirate name,” grinned Tom, squeezing his shoulder. Jon blinked. “All right, but let’s make it simple. I had a great-great-uncle or something who was a pirate; did I ever tell you that? Captain Black. If I’m going to follow in his footsteps, I might as well take his name, aye, matey?” he said with a jaunty tilt of an imaginary hat.

Tom grinned wide. “Aye… love,” said Tom. “Ye know, the difference between ye both is ye do have a heart. Ye might make my cock hard, but ye soften this.” Tom tapped two rough fingers against the spot over his heart. Jon had to laugh. “Gods, Tom… That was almost poetic,” he said, stroking his hand down Tom’s chest and tugging playfully at the big man’s chest hair. “Listen… The captain can beat the fuck out of you, and when you’re done, you can come to me, and I will kiss you better,” said Jon. Tom’s lips parted in response, and he stared at Jon with eyes suddenly darkened by desire and turbulent emotion. Tom’s arms tightened around Jon again, and when he licked his lips, his breathing had a shaky quality to it. “Gods, love,” was all the big man said, and Jon had to laugh. “You’d like that?” he asked, realizing the strange mastery over the powerful creature that held him. “Aye,” responded Tom, his voice barely a whisper. Jon’s heart beat double. They kissed again, only coming up for air when Jon had to beg off to relieve his bladder. When he came back and Tom lifted his arm again, Jon frowned, noticing something he hadn’t before.

He lifted his eyes to the captain’s. “This,” he said in a low voice, gesturing to the temple behind them, “it means something to you, doesn’t it?” Baltsaros frowned and tilted his head. For a moment Jon thought the captain was going to evade the question or lie. “Yes… and no,” replied Baltsaros slowly. “I know nothing of their gods.” “What of your gods?” asked Jon. “Do they demand blood as well?” The captain laughed. “I have no gods, Jon. God is a word men use to hide the truth of their desires,” the older man said, turning to watch Tom climb out of the river. “I have no such need. What is a god to you? A rule maker? A judge? A parent? Behind every god there is the very mortal hand of man, trust me.” “Then why, Baltsaros? Why do I feel like what just happened resonates very deeply with you?” whispered Jon. “It does, lad,” said Tom, his eyes locked on Baltsaros. “And yer goin’ to tell him every last bit, Da, so help me. But this ain’t the place for it, aye? Let’s get gone. We need a place to eat and bed down so we can get lookin’ again tomorrow mornin’.” Tom’s irritation and disappointment were obvious; Jon saw the first mate’s jaw muscles twitch under his dark-blond stubble as he stared hard at the captain. Baltsaros nodded and squeezed the water from the braid hanging over his shoulder as Jon stepped back into his boots, retying Tom’s belt around his hips. Though the hot sun was quickly drying their clothes, Jon was cold; the thought of a warm meal hurried his strides. It also took his mind off the taste of blood in his mouth.

When Strixa opened her mouth to speak again, he used his powers to transform her back into her black owl form. “How ’bout you remain like this for a bit. Safer for us all, I think.” She let out a fierce shriek as she flew to land on the ship’s railing so that she could glare at him with her glowing red eyes. William cleared his throat to get Devyl’s attention. “Beg pardon, Captain. Can’t help wondering if taunting her isn’t a bit foolish? Most especially given our current situation?” “Of course it is, Mr. Death. Why else would I be about it? Where would be the fun of practicing caution and intelligence? If we’re bound for hell again, let it be with full sail and flagrant disregard of all sanity, I say.” William let out a nervous laugh as he turned toward the crew. “Who is with me for a mutiny, eh?” Bart clapped him on the back. “I’d say aye, but the captain scares me too much.” “Aye to that,” Zumari agreed. “Besides, he’d take too much pleasure in eating our entrails. Methinks he’s the only captain alive—or dead—who craves a mutiny.

Stay a pace behind me, stop fidgeting, and stop looking around you like you want to start a fight. You were a slave long enough, start acting like one,” said Baltsaros in a low, harsh whisper. Tom clenched his jaw and looked down, nodding. “Aye, Da,” he murmured. Even at the best of times, Tom had made a lousy slave… but the captain was right; he was behaving foolishly. There was gold to be had here and maybe something even more valuable. He had to get a hold of himself. After all, it was just a bit of play-acting.

Do you hate me overmuch, my Lord Captain Pirate Ruark?" "Aye," he muttered hoarsely. "I hate you when you hold yourself from me. But it never lasts beyond your first kiss.

It will be lovely to have someone new to dine with,” Pandora exclaimed. “Especially someone who has just come from town. I want to hear everything about London.” Devon cast a questioning glance at Kathleen. She answered the twins directly. “I have already explained to Lord Trenear that as we are in strict mourning, we shall dine separately.” The statement was met with a flurry of protests. “But Kathleen, it’s been so dull without any visitors —” “We’ll behave perfectly, I promise —” “They’re our cousins!” “What harm would it do?” Kathleen felt a twinge of regret, knowing that the girls were eager for any kind of diversion. However, this was the man who intended to cast them out of the only home they had ever known. And his brother, Weston, from all appearances, was already half in his cups. A pair of rakes was unsuitable company for innocent girls, particularly when the girls themselves could not be trusted to conduct themselves with restraint. No good could come of it. “I’m afraid not,” she said firmly. “We will allow the earl and his brother to dine in peace.” “But Kathleen,” Cassandra pleaded, “we’ve had no amusement for so long.” “Of course you haven’t,” Kathleen said, steeling herself against a stab of guilt. “People aren’t supposed to have amusements when they’re in mourning.” The twins fell silent, glowering at her. Devon broke the tension by asking Cassandra lightly, “Permission to go ashore, Captain?” “Aye,” came the sullen reply, “you and the wench can leave by way of the plank.” Kathleen frowned. “Kindly do not refer to me as a wench, Cassandra.” “It’s better than ‘bilge rat,’” Pandora said in a surly tone. “Which is the term I would have used.” After giving her a chiding glance, Kathleen returned to the graveled walk, with Devon by her side. “Well?” she asked after a moment. “Aren’t you going to criticize as well?” “I can’t think of anything to add to ‘bilge rat.

Mr. Kelley, if you could provide a small vector adjustment so we miss that planet, I’d be grateful,” the captain said with a wry smile. “Aye, aye, Captain. All ahead full and damn the red lines,” he replied.

Then get your ass in gear and get your woman.” “Aye-aye, Captain.” “I’m blind in both eyes. I don’t wear a patch.” “What? I wasn’t—forget it.” I wave him off. He’s ridiculous, making us a perfect pair. “You’re unreal.

Then the wizard looked down at the six big coins in his hand. Twoflower had insisted on paying his first four days’ wages in advance. Hugh nodded and smiled encouragingly. Rincewind snarled at him. As a student wizard Rincewind had never achieved high marks in precognition, but now unused circuits in his brain were throbbing and the future might as well have been engraved in bright colours on his eyeballs. The space between his shoulder blades began to itch. The sensible thing to do, he knew, was to buy a horse. It would have to be a fast one, and expensive — offhand, Rincewind couldn’t think of any horse - dealer he knew who was rich enough to give change out of almost a whole ounce of gold. And then, of course, the other five coins would help him set up a useful practice at some safe distance, say two hundred miles. That would be the sensible thing. But what would happen to Twoflower, all alone in a city where even the cockroaches had an unerring instinct for gold? A man would have to be a real heel to leave him. The Patrician of Ankh - Morpork smiled, but with his mouth only. “The Hub Gate, you say?” he murmured. The guard captain saluted smartly. “Aye, lord. We had to shoot the horse before he would stop.

Aye, Captain!” All three answered instantly. Suicidal nut jobs, they sounded happy to be out here facing certain death. Actually, they probably were.

Madam,’ said Ortho, prickling. ‘I will have you know that until yesterday I was captain of my own ship.’ Her lip curled. ‘Yesterday!—a thing of little value, O.P. It is but yesterday I had all Kingston—aye, all Jamaica—at my feet. And what will my brave yesterday buy me now? One sigh? One tint glance of admiration?’ She flung her hands out, despairingly. ‘It cannot even win me civility from a broken ship-master.

To think, the mighty Duke of Blackheath doin’ me bidding. Now there’s a thought!” At this, Nerissa actually laughed, for the idea of Lucien doing anyone’s bidding was about as ludicrous as that of a mermaid popping up in their wake and waving hello. “Ah!” said the scoundrel beside her. “So ye do smile, after all. Laugh, even. Should do it more often. Makes ye even prettier, it does.” She immediately sobered and glared at him. “My amusement comes from imagining what is going to happen when that mighty duke catches up to you.” “Ye think he can best me in a fight?” Nerissa laughed again, harder this time. And now even her captor’s lips were twitching and the hard, intimidating edge to him had softened, his eyes sparkling with merriment. “Ye mustn’t love yer brother much, lass, if the idea of his demise brings ye such delight! Saints alive, Sunshine, if he doesn’t love you either, we might be stuck with each other longer than we both thought.” “That is not why I’m laughing.” He dug his spoon into his bowl and shoveled another glob of oatmeal into his mouth. His eyes were mischievous again, happy, bright. “Oh?” “I’m laughing because it brings me delight to imagine your heart speared on the end of his sword.” “Got a lot of faith in this brother of yers, do ye?” “Captain O’ Devir, I think you have a death wish.” “Aye, maybe I do,” he said, scraping the bowl with his spoon, “but at least I won’t die hungry.

Well, Mr. Cranton,” she said, brows raised. “When you told me you needed my gown so as to clean the sea stains and tar from it, I had no idea that you had… uh, other uses for it.” Loud guffaws met her remark. “Really, Captain O’ Devir,” she said, turning to the grinning Irishman. “Your so-called Navy has some odd ways of amusing itself.” “Odd ways that saved all of our hides,” cried a nearby seaman. “Three cheers for our captain!” “Hip hip, huzzah! Hip hip, huzzah! Hip hip, huzzah!” Nerissa, confused, could only stare at them all. They’d surely lost their minds. “I expected there to be a sea fight, and I’m very glad there was not, but how did you manage to avoid getting blown to the ends of the earth, Captain O’ Devir?” He just shrugged, his eyes hungry and dark as he took in her long, willowy form, her legs clearly outlined in Midshipman Cranton’s skinny breeches. “Well, Lady Nerissa, ye’re the most valuable person on this ship and that countryman of yers back there knows it. He wouldn’t dare fire on us with you up here on deck.” “But I wasn’t up here on deck.” “Aye, precisely. But that piece of sh—… ehm, that blaggard back there, didn’t know that. Ye’ll stay in Cranton’s uniform so he doesn’t find out.” “What? What are you all talking about?” Lieutenant Morgan, chewing on a piece of dried ginger, was the one who clarified it for her. “Captain O’ Devir would never risk your life by having you up on deck where musket or cannonballs could be flying, so he had Cranton here pretend to be you.” The youth rubbed the back of his head. “Didn’t need to hit me quite so hard, sir,” he said good naturedly. “I nearly didn’t have to fake being knocked out cold.” “My heavens,” Nerissa said, as laughter greeted the youth’s remark, and immediately the sailor’s teasing resumed. “Still think you make a fetching young lady, Mr. Cranton!” “Can I call on you, my lady?” asked Tackett the sailing master, making an elegant leg to the blushing youth. “I’d love to run my fingers through your hair….” “Hell, I’d love to run mine through his cleavage.” “Hahaha!” “Shut yer gobs, ye rogues,” said Captain O’ Devir. “That’s an officer ye’re talkin’ to. Give him some respect.” More guffaws, because it was hard to give a man any respect when he stood before them in a lady’s gown, red-faced, fuming, and reaching into his bosom to tear out the other stocking. He flung it down. “My apologies, Lady Nerissa,” he said, looking like he was about to take a swing at the sailing master. “You should not have to listen to such talk.” She couldn’t help but be caught up in their high spirits. “I have brothers,” she said, smiling. “There’s not much that will offend me, I can assure you.

Now, Polychrests,’ he said, ‘now we are going to crack on until she groans again. Stuns’ls aloft and alow, royals, and, damn me, royal stuns’ls and skys’ls if she’ll bear ’em. The sooner we’re there, the sooner we’re home. Topmen, upperyardmen, are you ready?’ ‘Ready, aye ready, sir.’ A comfortable, good body of sound – relief, thankfulness? ‘Then at the word, up you go. Lay aloft!

I have already explained to Lord Trenear that as we are in strict mourning, we shall dine separately.” The statement was met with a flurry of protests. “But Kathleen, it’s been so dull without any visitors--” “We’ll behave perfectly, I promise--” “They’re our cousins!” “What harm would it do?” Kathleen felt a twinge of regret, knowing that the girls were eager for any kind of diversion. However, this was the man who intended to cast them out of the only home they had ever known. And his brother, Weston, from all appearances, was already half in his cups. A pair of rakes was unsuitable company for innocent girls, particularly when the girls themselves could not be trusted to conduct themselves with restraint. No good could come of it. “I’m afraid not,” she said firmly. “We will allow the earl and his brother to dine in peace.” “But Kathleen,” Cassandra pleaded, “we’ve had no amusement for so long.” “Of course you haven’t,” Kathleen said, steeling herself against a stab of guilt. “People aren’t supposed to have amusements when they’re in mourning.” The twins fell silent, glowering at her. Devon broke the tension by asking Cassandra lightly, “Permission to go ashore, Captain?” “Aye,” came the sullen reply, “you and the wench can leave by way of the plank.” Kathleen frowned. “Kindly do not refer to me as a wench, Cassandra.” “It’s better than ‘bilge rat,’” Pandora said in a surly tone. “Which is the term I would have used.” After giving her a chiding glance, Kathleen returned to the graveled walk, with Devon by her side. “Well?” she asked after a moment. “Aren’t you going to criticize as well?” “I can’t think of anything to add to ‘bilge rat.