“Good, I don’t feel up to working with food yet.” Hadrian let his head drop into his hands. The old man next to Wyatt tossed down his card and the whole group groaned in agony.

“You bloody bastard, Drew!” Grady barked at him, tossing what remained of his cards onto the pile. The others did the same.

Drew grinned, showing his few yellowed teeth, and collected the tiny pile of silver tenents. “That’s it for me, boys. Good night.”

“Night, Drew, ya lousy Lanksteer!” Grady said, shooing him away as if he were a bug. “We can talk at breakfast, eh?”

“Sure, Grady,” Drew said. “Oh, that reminds me. I heard something right funny tonight when I was reefing the tops’l. We’re going to be taking on a passenger to help find the horn. How stupid are these landlubbers? It’s only the most well-known point on the Sharon! Anyway, remind me at breakfast and I’ll tell ya about it. It’s a real hoot, it is. Night now.”

Most of the rest of the men headed off, leaving just Wyatt, Grady, Poe, and Hadrian.

“You should turn in as well,” Wyatt told Poe.

“I’m not tired,” he protested.

“I didn’t ask if you were tired, did I?”

“I want to stay up and celebrate my promotion.”

“Off with ya before I report you for disobeying a superior.”

Poe scowled and stomped off, looking for his hammock.

“You too, Grady,” Wyatt told him.

The old seaman looked at Wyatt suspiciously, then leaned over and quietly asked, “Why you trying to get rid of me, Deminthal?”

“Because I’m tired of looking at that ugly scowl of yours, that’s why.”

“Codswallop!” he hissed. “You wanna be alone to talk about the you-know-what, don’t ya? Both of you are in on it. I can tell, and that Royce fellow, he’s in too. How many more you got, Wyatt? Room for another? I’m pretty good in a fight.”

“Shut up, Grady,” Wyatt told him. “Talk like that can get you hanged.”

“Okay, okay,” Grady said, holding up his palms. “Just letting you know, that’s all.” He got up and headed for his own hammock, casting several glances back over his shoulder, until he disappeared into the forest of swinging men.

“What was that all about?” Hadrian asked, hooking a thumb toward Grady’s retreating figure.

“I don’t know,” Wyatt replied. “There’s always one sailor on board any ship looking for a mutiny. Grady seems to be the Emerald Storm’s. Ever since he signed on, he’s been thinking there’s a conspiracy going on—mostly because he wants there to be, I think. He has issues with authority, Grady does.” Wyatt started gathering up the scattered deck of cards into a pile. “So, what’s your story?”

“How do you mean?” Hadrian asked.