Page 53 of An Imperfect Scoundrel

“Considering the current state of this ship, we will forego any further raids. After the ransom letters have been mailed and the hostages exchanged for payment, we will return to Ceresus and disband.”

“We’re not returning to the coast?” Mr. Evans asked, pushing forward. “I want more gold. I’m willing to accept the risk.”

A handful of men around him murmured their assent.

“I will lend my name to any man that needs its strength to obtain a new position,” Cedric replied, gesturing at the jagged-edged hole. “This is a sign even you can’t deny.”

“What of this ship?” Mr. Evans pressed.

“The cost of repairs outweighs its usefulness to me.”

“Would you sell it?”

Something in Mr. Evans’ tone bothered him, and Cedric took an intimidating step forward. “Do you wish to take control of my ship?”

“No, Captain.” Mr. Evans, trapped by a wall of bodies, couldn’t back away and raised his hands into a defensive position. “I want to purchase the ship from you after we dock in Ceresus.”

“You have the funds to do this?” Cedric asked, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice.

“Yes.” Mr. Evans offered a smile, but it did little to reduce the apprehension buzzing in Cedric’s temples.

Rowland admitted he wasn’t certain if Mr. Evans had been involved in the mutiny against him. By the time Rowland stopped fighting his attackers, there were no men left. They were either dead or had abandoned the plot and returned to their posts without assisting their fallen comrades.

“We have an accord,” Cedric replied, holding out his hand. “Once we reach Ceresus, this ship will be yours... upon payment, of course.”

“Of course.” Mr. Evans clasped Cedric’s hand and pumped once.

No need to explain to Mr. Evans that the boat would never reach port. He intended to blow the ship up before they passed through the reefs protecting Ceresus from the outside world. But if this agreement kept his crew happy, he was willing to endorse the fallacy.

Exiting the gun deck, Cedric strode toward the crew’s quarters. He noted there were several new men splayed across the bunks, their moans of pain rising and falling with the ship’s rocking motion.

“Burned by the blast,” Mr. Wickes said, meeting Cedric as he entered and pointing at a group of five men.

“And Carter?”

“Still alive,” Mr. Dubois said from his perched position on a far bunk. He gestured at the softly rising mountain of blankets.

“I see you are capable of great things when properly motivated.” Cedric nodded. “Come, Dubois. You’re relieved of this duty. I have another task for you.”

Cedric spun and climbed out of the crew’s quarters. He felt Mr. Dubois scamper up behind him and was pleased he didn’t have to repeat his command.

“What happened?” Mr. Dubois huffed, his short legs struggling to keep up.

“I underestimated the Navy’s intelligence.” His sharp tone caused Mr. Dubois to recoil.

“Are you injured again?” He followed Cedric across the main deck, darting around debris, and hovered roughly three steps behind, just far enough back to be out of reach of Cedric's fists.

“Would you prefer that?” Cedric glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Dubois.

“You are the only patient who gives me whiskey.”

Cedric snorted. “What did the other men give you?”

“Curse words.”

Cedric opened the door leading to his quarters, holding it until Mr. Dubois entered the small corridor. As they passed by Mr. Hayward’s door, a small crash inside drew both their attention.

“What was that?” Mr. Dubois asked, reaching for the handle.