The docker’s shoulders instantly lowered, and the tension around his jaw slackened. Slowly, the corners of his mouth turned up, just a touch. He glanced around, eyes flashing, furtive. “Let’s see … Well, she’s a pretty lass, as you said”—he ticked the piece of information off on one finger—“and a pirate.” Another finger. “But I hear she always offers quarter, so …” He blinked, and his gaze snapped to Knigh as if he realised he was painting a pirate in glowing terms to a pirate hunter.

With a gruff clearing of his throat, Barrels went on, frowning: “Think her ship’s The Morrigan, captained by a man named FitzRoy. Everyone says she’s his right-hand woman.”

When Barrels drifted into silence, Knigh clenched his jaw against an exasperated sigh. That was all information he already knew. If he could find out a bit more about her ship or captain, maybe that would give a clue about their destination from here. He forced another smile in place. “What about FitzRoy? What sort of reputation does he have? Any favourite haunts?”

The man’s mouth screwed up. “Wouldn’t know about that, ser. He’s meant to be”—he lifted one shoulder and glanced around again—“let’s say a bit less reasonable than the lady—so I hear. And if he gets a sniff of anything about Drake, he can get downright violent.” His shudder suggested he had experience of that.

“Drake?” Knigh cocked his head. Surely not—“As in, Ser Francis Drake?” What did a long-dead privateer have to do with anything?

“Aye, ser. You’ve heard the stories about his treasure, surely? Everyone knows FitzRoy’s obsessed with it—reckons he’ll find it one day.” Barrels scoffed and quite rightly—most people of sound mind had given up on it a century ago. “Well, he hasn’t found it in all the years he’s been around these parts.” Sighing, he shrugged. “But then some men need their obsessions, don’t they?”

Knigh blinked, a genuine smile easing into place. “Yes. Yes, they do.” And obsession pushed men to make mistakes, like chasing every clue they came across. “Thank you, Mr Barrels, you’ve been a great help.” He held out two silver crowns and nodded. It was possibly more than he should give, and it came out of his own pocket, not the Navy’s—they didn’t hold with bribes. But it was nothing compared to the bounty he’d get when he delivered Lady Vice to the authorities back home. “A great help indeed.”

He had to catch up with her and get a message to his contact, first. Turning from Barrels, he took a deep breath and mastered his expression. Control. He didn’t have her yet.

But he did have a plan starting to form …