A prince hadn’t been entirely what James expected of
the ship he attacked, though surprises of the sort were
always the good kind. Having realized the vessel was of
... richer quality, the pirate captain had taken it upon himself
to give it a taste of his cannons--all for the desire of stealing
what cargo they no doubt had on board. Its riches just so
happened to be a happy coincidence, and something the
crew would be getting a great deal of if Captain Kidd played
his cards right.
It had been only slightly disappointing to discover that what
the ship flaunted in appearance, it lacked in goods. The discovery
of its purpose (to transport a prince, it seemed) had only been
founded after being pelted with cannon fire. And when James’s
crew returned with little more than the surrendered survivors, he
had been aggravated by the waste of time.
At least until he came to learn just who one of those survivors
was. As if his prim and proper attire hadn’t been evidence enough.
He looked to be the last person who should be out at sea: much
too delicate to be dealing with the unforgiving waves and blistering
winds. The poor man even had a bit of his hair out of place after
the action. Terribly ruffled.
James had almost faked a pout as he approached him, though the smirk
that tugged at his lips prevented anything of the sort. He waved off the
crew members who had been restraining the prince, knowing full well
that there was nothing he could do to fight back at this point. At least
nothing intelligent, though James certainly didn’t know him well enough to
decide if he’d be making any dimwitted moves.
“Ya don’t often see men of your stature out this far at sea.
‘s not somethin’ you’ve been conditioned to handle: the
rough waves and less than bloody perfect livin’ conditions.”
His arms folded loosely across his chest, and he stepped in
a circle around the subject of his interest. “A prince, aye?
I reckon you’d go for more than a shiny penny--if yer family
wants ya back in one piece.”
