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Luke's cutlass is in his hand and thrust up against Jim's throat within seconds. "He's under my protection. Anyone who touches him will answer to me. I'll find out what he's doing out here and why, don't you worry."

Jim gives a grunt of acceptance, but his eye gleams angrily all the same.

Luke is always on the watch for any sign of dissent on his ship – pirates are notoriously ill-disciplined and prone to disloyalty.

Having served many years with the Royal Navy, Luke has managed to lick some shape into his men, but Jim is always one to watch.

Night has fallen by the time Luke returns to his cabin. He’s still baffled by how the boy ended up in the sea and wants him well-rested before questioning him.

He’ll see through any lies; the stranger will tell him the truth or face a long, hard bout with his cat o' nine tails.

The boy sits up as Luke enters, with salt-crusted hair and bright blue eyes. His damp clothes are drying on a nearby chair, and he’s wrapped tightly in a blanket.

Luke places his lantern on the shelf beside the bed and, without speaking, hands the boy a plate of dried meat and hardtack, which he eagerly devours.

Then Luke pours ale into a tankard and gives it to him.

"I’m the captain of this ship," Luke announces once the boy has finished his meal. "My name is Luke Jenkins, but you’ll refer to me as Captain or Sir."

The boy clears his throat before softly saying, "Thank you, Captain. I’m in your debt." His voice is deep and strong beyond his years.

"My name is Sebastian," he adds. "Sebastian Shaw.” As he speaks, he gives a crooked smile, and Luke wonders if the second part is a lie. The first rings out as clear and true as a bell, though.

Sebastian. The name calls to Luke, lilting, beckoning, and singing as if it knows him down to his core.

He takes a moment to collect himself, then sits down on the bed beside the lad, giving him a sharp look.

"Sebastian, hmm? How old are you, boy?"

"Two and twenty, Sir.”

That’s older than Luke thought; old enough to be called a man, not a boy, but Luke decides his ten years' seniority gives him the right to call him 'boy' all the same.

"Well, Sebastian, as I saved your life, it belongs to me now.”

Many men would rail angrily at such words, but Sebastian merely looks intrigued.

"First, though, you'll tell me what manner of prize you are – are you flotsam, Sebastian, or are you jetsam?"

It makes a difference. Luke is well-versed in the laws of salvage – if a ship goes down and her cargo floats to the surface, it’s flotsam. But if the cargo is thrown overboard for some reason… that’s jetsam and very different.

Is this boy an innocent who's survived a shipwreck, or has he been cast into the water by another ship's captain for good reason?

"How did you survive the sea?" Luke demands. "Your skin isn't burned, so you can't have been in the water for long. What ship were you on, and why did you leave her?"

Sebastian's face is even more beautiful bathed in the light from the lantern. He looks like some burnished Greek god, his cheekbones sharp and his eyes glowing brightly.

"I was on a ship to England – the Marie-Louise ," he explains in that sweet, strong voice. "We are thrown off course by that storm a few nights ago. The ship went down, and all hands with her. I’m lucky – I was trapped beneath a piece of her hull with enough air to breathe and a flask of ale at my belt. That piece of hull eventually broke up in the water, leaving me at the mercy of the sea. I’d all but lost hope when you found me. "

It’s possible. Not likely, but possible. Yet, Luke doesn’t believe a word of it.

“Would you be lying to me, Sebastian?" he asks in a dangerous tone.

Drawing his cutlass, he presses the tip lightly against Sebastian's throat. It would be a shame to cut into this beautiful, pale skin, but he will if he must.

"What is your purpose, Sir?" Sebastian asks softly. He seems unafraid of the cutlass, barely giving it a glance.

"You see, I have no gold; I’m not wealthy. I was travelling to England to start to work with my uncle. He has no sons of his own, so I’m to take over his business one day. My uncle isn’t rich, either - he sent me just enough to pay for my passage."

Again, it sounds plausible, but is the explanation offered too glibly? Luke isn’t about to throw a man overboard on such thin evidence of deception, though, especially not one this comely! He removes the tip of his cutlass from Sebastian's throat.

"I don’t believe you," he says bluntly. "But every man should be allowed his secrets. It’s unlikely you pose any danger to this ship or my crew. So, my pretty piece of flotsam, here are my terms: I’ll give you safe passage to Port Royal if that’s what you want."

"It is, Sir!”

"Very well, though I must warn you that we’ll be at sea for many months, for I’ve no plans to return to Port Royal anytime soon. Now, there are no free berths on my ship - you’ll work your passage if you wish to stay onboard."

"I’m happy to work, Sir. In fact, I insist upon it," Sebastian says eagerly.

"Well then, I’ll give you a choice." Luke stands up, shoving his cutlass back into his belt. "You can work with my men around the ship; there are always plenty of tasks to be done. You’ll sleep below deck with them and share their food and ale."

"Of course, Sir. I’ve worked on a ship before. I know the tasks."

"I said you had a choice." Luke holds up his hand. “If you prefer, you may work as my cabin boy - keep my boots polished, my room tidy, and run errands for me. You’ll bring me food from the galley and make sure there’s always rum by my bed."

"Don’t you already have a cabin boy, Sir?" Sebastian asks curiously.

"I did." Luke sighs. "He left to bed a tavern girl in Port Royal. I told him she’d run him a merry dance, but he wouldn’t listen."

Sebastian smiles, and it’s such a sweet sight that Luke's heart skips a beat.

"So, Sebastian, what will it be? Cabin boy or deckhand?" he asks, his breath catching in his throat, knowing which he’d prefer.

Sebastian doesn’t give it any consideration at all. "It would be a great honour to serve as your cabin boy, Sir," he says, shooting Luke a shy smile.

Luke rocks back on his heels, grinning broadly. "Be warned - I like my cabin tidy and my boy at hand whenever I call."

"I can do that, Sir!"

"Well and good, then." Luke pours himself a glass of rum and downs it in one gulp. "Now, if you so wish, you may also keep my bed warm," he adds, drawing the back of his hand over his mouth to wipe away the rum.

Sebastian's eyes open wide in surprise, flickering in golden hues from the lantern light. Luke grins and runs a gentle finger over his fine lips.

"You're a handsome lad, as you well know.

If you're willing, you may sleep in my bed beside me.

But understand me clear – if that's your choice, I'll strip you bare and make fine sport with you.

If you've lain with a man before, you'll find it nothing like being with me. " Luke speaks with some pride.

Leaning forward, he whispers directly into Sebastian's ear. "I'll ravish you long and hard – you can expect no mercy."

Sebastian makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, his Adam's apple jerking wildly.

Luke draws back, smiling sharply. "But I have one rule – I’ll never take an unwilling lad to my bed. You can be my cabin boy without sharing my bed, and you'll suffer no ill treatment from me if that's your choice. So, what's it to be? Do you want to warm my bed, Sebastian? Are you a willing lad?"