She rolled her eyes, no interest in the pair of captains competing over the contents of their breeches. “Look, Drake was the greatest Albionic privateer who ever sailed the high seas. He sacked treasure ships and Hesperian towns dozens of times over. Where did it all go?”

“His descendants are still wealthy now—that’s where it went. It’s in some vault on the Drake estate.”

She sighed and leant across the rail, staring out over the waves. No hidden treasure. What a dull way to see the world. “You really think he brought it all back with him?”

He mirrored her pose, forearms resting on the rail beside hers. “What else would he have done with it?”

“You know—hidden it somewhere. Buried treasure, like the stash Flint found up the coast from Nombres de Dioses—the silver was too much for them to carry and—”

“And their ships had left, thinking them dead—yes, I know the stories. Just because someone found some silver that might be from that raid, doesn’t mean all the mad tales sailors spew are true.”

“No, but—”

“Sails ahead!”

Vice’s eyes widened, and she hurried to the fore rail of the quarterdeck, squinting into the distance. Not visible at this height yet, but the call came from the main top where they could see miles further than from deck.

Knigh stood at her side, jaw clenched. “Where are we?” He frowned back towards the island they’d left. “No, he can’t have—”

“The Covadonga,” the shout came from aloft.

Knigh huffed. “He did. The wily bastard.”

Her heart leapt. FitzRoy had timed their trip to place them along the treasure ship’s path. There was still the chance of treasure after all.

Below their feet, the door to FitzRoy’s cabin burst open. “Full sail,” he bellowed. “Vice?”

“On it, Captain.” Grinning at Knigh, she released her awareness and cast around for a nearby current she could bend to thrust them towards the prize.

Over the hour it took them to approach, The Morrigan’s crew busied themselves with the usual preparations on deck. They sprinkled sand, readied sails, doled out weapons, and loaded rifles, pistols, and cannon. With all the noise, Barnacle sloped off to Perry’s cabin.

When they raised the black flag, the Covadonga refused to strike her Hesperian colours. Instead, with a puff of smoke and a flash, they fired stern chasers, splashing far wide of The Morrigan.

From the fore rail of the quarterdeck, Fitz smiled coldly. “It’s like that, then, is it?” He nodded to Bricus and Perry. “Rake her stern.”

Rubbing her hands together, Vice grinned at Knigh on the wheel and helped The Morrigan speed closer. “Decided to help after all, then?”

He cocked his head, gaze fixed on their course. “Still just sailing.” With a practiced hand, he leant into the wheel, turning the ship smoothly.