It is a day beyond beautiful, a day like a painting. The sky is bright, without a single cloud to be seen, and the water is aglow with the light dashed off the backs of small, unintimidating white caps. In the shallows, even from the tall dock, I can see the sandy bottom, and following the uneven slope, the color of the sea deepens in a smooth and imperfect gradient.

Sailors of all shapes and sizes lumber past, laden with barrels and kegs and ropes and canvases. A few might be ours, but most part down separate docks or pile their wares into skiffs and dinghies.

A fair amount of sailors are primly dressed in navy uniform, heading for a pristine galleon in a deep berth at the furthest dock. The ship, the H.M.S Cardinal, named for His Majesty King Cardinal Cadencia himself, is a gold-trimmed, blue-painted vessel that is, doubtless, the finest ship in the entire port. I'd like to say our own Orpheus was a close second, but I'd be lying. Third or fourth, perhaps. There are at least a hundred ships docked, and another fifty or so at anchor or on moorings.

"That's us, there," Dr. Oswald says, pointing to the Orpheus at her berth. Simon, the fish people, and I had seen the ship before. Lydia and the five weapon-laden men had not.

"She's a beauty," praises Pete. Mike whistles as if hailing a lady's attention.

"Have you been aboard, yet?" Lydia asks.

"No, not yet," the doctor answers. "I'm excited to."

The Orpheus is magnificent piece of work, light for her size. She has two tall masts decked with square sails. She is double-decked with forty guns and a polished bowsprit of a beautiful syren with her arms spread, clothed in seaweed.

There is a long, notched boarding ramp leading up from the dock. A man awaits at the top, smiling, hands clasped neatly behind his back. I don't recognize him.

Then, upon closer inspection, I do.

His blue and gold coattails flutter in the breeze.

We start up the ramp, following a pair of men with sacks thrown over their shoulders. The captain greets each of them by name.

"West," he nods. "Barker. That'd be the last of the load, yes?"

"Just one more barrel," says Mr. West. "Walsh's got it."

"Excellent." The captain shifts his attention to us, chipper, bright, and sharp-eyed. "How's that, doctor? Right on time."

Upon reaching the deck, the doctor pauses to take in the reborn captain before him. His hair is combed and neatly held away from his face by the ribbon at his nape, and his whiskers are trimmed and even. He looks and smells as clean as the rest of us do, and he is, undoubtedly, sober. Rootwig whirs her approval. Thenshie chatters her teeth.

"My, my, Captain," breathes the doctor, "I'm very impressed."

"Surprised? This is why I prefer to find the clients rather than have the clients find me. Gives the wrong idea." He extends a hand. "As I said, doctor, I am very serious about my work."

They shake hands once, and the captain directs us to his cabin at the stern. I lag behind a little, as the captain does. The doctor, Lydia, and Simon all move forward without question, looking about the ship. The Aquians slip-slop across the deck with their weird webbed feet and peer over the opposite handrail.

Simon has a load of thick books slung over his shoulder, held by a leather strap.

I catch Captain Clarke's look of displeasure at the doctor's five crewmen. His smile leaves and he greets them with a sort of a sneer.

"Gents."

They greet him with a little more respect. "Captain."

"Leslie!" the captain calls, turning towards his quarters. "Find these men something to do."

A burly, shirtless red-head attentively moves at the captain's order and hollers commands at the five.

The captain brushes his hand against my back. "I believe you have my map."

"Sorry?"

"I can see it," he says, frowning at me as he prods me along at a faster pace than I'd like. "Under your shirt. It isn't the best hiding place."

"Oh." I look down. He isn't wrong.

He shoos the doctor and Simon and Lydia away from his door and opens it for them. I am the first inside. It is laid out the very same as his hole-in-the-ground home, save for the large window at the back. There is a hammock strung by one wall, and a bed built into the other. His naval memorabilia cover a shelf in a cabinet with a glass door, though his sword is equipped on his person. His bottled ships cluster on the shelves below.

His banjo sits on a pile of pillows in the corner, beneath two paintings which hang on the wall.

There is a desk in the center of the room. He sits on one side. We sit on the other. There are three chairs, which leaves, of course, me to stand. Our fishy followers did not make it in. I suppose they must be exploring.

Captain Clarke folds his hands on the desk. "First order of business, I shall update you on our situation. We have forty-five crewmen, including ourselves and the men you hired. I can't say I agree with your interest in hiring an albino, but I won't question it—they aren't necessary crew. In any case, I have all the men I need already. We are stocked well with food for a return trip and enough for emergency rations should something happen to us, and our magazine is sufficient to get us through a few fights, should we encounter any. My carpenter added some adjustments and improvements to the ship that will be handy. We will be setting sail just before dawn, with the tide, and are lucky to have favorable winds for the first leg of our trip; about a month's time. The last leg, as it looks now, will be a week or so of tacking against the wind."

We all nod.

"Now, in a moment, I'll introduce you to my officers, who will be responsible for handling you and the rest of the crew. You'll be treated the same as any other aboard my ship and work the same as any man. I have your positions already assigned. You will all be taking night watches. Oswald and Woods as a pair, with Master Langley to show you what you're doing. Third company—pardon, ma'am, I do not know your name—with the boy and either Mr. Tussock or Master Cobbe, depending on my call on the night."

"Lydia Marks is my name. Mrs," Lydia introduces.

"Well, Mrs. Marks, you look to be a very strong, capable woman, and I think I'll find a lot more use of you than of any of your associates. When the sails go up, I'll have Master Leslie show you the ropes for a few of the tougher tasks," Captain Clarke decides. He continues over Simon's grunt of insult. "Mr. Woods will assist Barker and Elian Arrow in the galley."

"I can't cook!"

"You'll get the hang of it very fast, I'm sure," Clarke dismisses. "You'll mostly be cleaning up, rather than cooking. The boy will be, naturally, a cabin boy. And, Dr. Oswald, you'll get to do some sewing. The jib, I found, could use some adjustments. I've made the markings already, so you'll just have to sit down with a needle and follow the guides. No big job. My carpenter, Dorian, will oversee. And, if you're wondering, we do have a spare jib, so having this one down will not affect us. It will help us tremendously when it is finished."

"Very well," the doctor agrees.

"What's a cabin boy do?" I ask.

"Swabs the deck," answers the captain.

I almost complain, but I hold my tongue. The doctor didn't complain. Lydia didn't complain. Simon sort of complained, but in a way that already accepted his own defeat.

"All right," I mutter. I can't help the disappointment in my voice. It breaks a little.

The captain nods and addresses us all at once. "I have two cabins at the stern, below decks, beneath this very cabin, for you to share between yourselves, and your Aquian friends. It is up to you how you split them. I'd say ladies in one room and gents in the other, but you could also do university graduates in one and everyone else in the other. I don't care. Again, up to you."

"We'll arrange it later," says the doctor.

"Okay then. That brings us to the map. Let me see it."

I reach into my shirt and draw out the waxy paper. The captain eagerly takes it. Lydia leans forward in her seat and makes a remark of how she hadn't been told about this trip being a treasure hunt.

Captain Clarke unrolls the map with great reverence. Slowly, dramatically. He holds his hands to the edges and takes it in. The red 'X', the notes, the islands. He smiles at it like an old friend and traces a finger over the inked names at the bottom corner.

Cptn. Henry Avery & Ofcr. Increas Langley

Then, suddenly, he rolls it shut and glares hard at the doctor. "Where did you find this?"

The doctor opens his mouth, but isn't quick enough to respond, taken aback by the captain's sudden graveness towards him.

"I found it," I tell the man. "It belongs to me."

The captain fixes me with that calculating look of his. "What's your name, boy?"

"Avery. Walter Avery."

His eyes widen, as people's tend to do at hearing my inherited surname, and his expression becomes remarkably thoughtful. "As in... the son of..."

"Henry Avery," I finish, nodding my confirmation. "But, I'm not a pirate or a deserter, and I won't be becoming either." I always did feel it important to add this, before those that I met passed judgement on me for my father's recklessness. I hadn't met the man. I don't intend to follow in his bloody, ransom-filled footsteps.

Captain Clarke snorts and smirks. "All right. Whatever."

I'd forgotten that Clarke had been both of those things. Guilt flutters in my tummy at openly mentioning them in a negative light. Without thinking, my eyes avert to the trophy case of his admirable days as a navy man. In my peripheral, I see him pull out a safe. He explains to the four of us that the secrecy of the map is of upmost importance and that it must stay locked away.

Simon remains untrusting. The doctor lets the captain do what he thinks is best. Lydia is excited by the secrecy. I am unnerved by the captain's sudden interest in me. I catch him regarding me with that studying gaze a few times more. The hairs on my arm stand on end.

He beams endearingly. "Would we like to discuss general rules before or after meeting the officers?"

"Just get it done with now," Simon presses, fingers impatiently, or perhaps nervously, playing with his leather book strap. The pile of volumes stands tall beside his chair.

Captain Clarke lowers the closed safe and pushes it under his desk with his toes. "Certainly. The first rule is that my word is law. If I give you an order, you say 'yes, sir', or 'aye, captain', or anything along those lines. No complaints, no argument. Aboard this ship, though you may pay me, I am your boss. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," says I.

"Aye, captain," says Lydia.

"I think," says Simon testily, "we have some authority as your employers."

"I think not," the captain argues. "If I say jump, you say...?"

I know the line, but I look awkwardly to the doctor and to Simon before I speak. Neither seem eager to accept the captain's command over them. The captain's welcoming demeanor starts to fade. He gives Dr. Oswald and Simon the very same sneer that he had given to our hired hands.

"Doc, Teach, you'd best accept the way things are, because they won't be changing. Aboard this ship, my word is law. I won't be telling you to dive overboard, wrestle sharks, or drown yourself with rum. Command isn't a toy, and I have no intention to play with it. I take my work seriously." His tone is sharp as a whip. My back straightens out involuntarily, and I find myself giving him my full attention. "When I say jump..." he growls, "You say..."

How high? How high.

Simon lowers his eyes to the ground. "How high."

The doctor does the same, like an animal in training. "How high."

"How high, sir," Clarke corrects. "But, that'll do for now. The second rule is that my officers are my voices. If they give you an order, they are speaking for me, and you will listen and obey as you would obey me. If you have any complaints or reports to make that you think I might need to hear, you can take it up with one of them, and they'll decide whether I need to be bothered with your issues or not. They will be, more or less, your caretakers aboard. Respect them and obey them."

"Yes, sir." This time, we all say it.

"Excellent. Third rule; no brawling. Any men involved in a fight will receive three lashes at Master Leslie's hand." He pauses and smiles again. "That means that you'll have the flesh torn from your back by a whip."

My face scrunches up.

"Last but not least, concerning Mrs. Marks and your Aquian companions... Boobs below deck. When I say 'boobs below deck', or when Leslie says it, that means all women are to go below. Some men get distracted easily, you see. I've had the issue in the past, but it most likely won't come up."

"That's disgusting," Lydia scoffs.

"Not my problem." He claps his hands together and stands up. "The bell at the mizzenmast will be rung three times consecutively at mealtimes, and meals will be set out for an hour before being cleaned up—Teach, you'll be assisting with that, and the boy scout can help, too. By your fob watches, meals will be at eleven, and seven. Lunch and dinner. The bell, at all other times, should be left untouched. Ring nonstop in emergencies; for example, if you spot a jolly roger approaching us on your night watch."

"Yes, sir."

"Marvelous!" he praises. "Now, stay right where you are, and I'll fetch my men."

INTRODUCING: THE CAPTAIN