It was a temptation to leave port and find a deep hole and toss the safe and all it contained overboard. I would've done it to, but I needed the money. I turned and left the cabin the decision I had already made inside weighing heavily upon me.
My crew arrived one by one later in the day. Captain Flynn, as he liked to be called was the first to arrive.
Captain Flynn was the cook and general all around fix-it man whether it was an underperforming mechanical engine or a deep cut that needed stitching. In a word he was indispensable to the smooth running of the ship. He was on the north side of sixty, but as of yet he had no plans to retire from his life at sea.
He'd told me once that he'd spent twice as long at sea as he'd ever walked upon dry land and I believed him. He was the closest thing I had in the form of a friend that I would actually confide in, even though I never had.
His old weathered face wore a speculative cast to it as he studied me with his sea green eyes as his sparse white hair ruffled about in a seaward breeze, "We be in for a time of it this little jaunt out to sea aye?"
Old sailors had a way of sniffing out the undercurrents of change in the fabric of normal events. I said nothing one way or the other, as I was content to let him figure it out on his own.
He gave me a crusty smile and I saw the excitement in his old seadog eyes light up, "Reporting for duty I is Captain! Ready to sail wherever it may be to claim the prize and plunder the booty that be there."
I let a small smile crack out in response to the old man's sly weaseling away in an attempt to ferret out the facts of the situation. The old seadog knew somehow. He chuckled as he passed by slapping me hard on the back.
He stopped and peered back at me to ask, "Should I see that old Bessie's in working order then Captain?"
"It wouldn't go amiss to give her a look over and don't forget to check up on the Children while you're at it."
He gave me a sharp piercing look then at the mention of 'the Children' before he continued on his way saying, "Aye aye Captain.".
I heard him call out to Ortega in his usual derogatory manner, "There ye be ya hateful half troll son of a baker's daughter. What's this I see with my own bleeding eyes? Rust it is! Rust! What have you been doing but seeing the south end of your sack?"