lieutenant gestured with his head toward the merchant ship which was even now passing the harbor's breakwater.
"Should we notify Murshid and his men? There's a fortune in that nobleman's chests. And his wife's young. Pretty, too, probably. She and the other women would bring a good price."
The commanding officer stroked his beard, considering the question. He and his officers made a tidy profit, on the side, selling information on lucrative targets to the local pirates.
He did not ponder the matter for very long.
"No," he said firmly. "Not with that escort."
"There weren't more than thirty of them," argued his lieutenant. "Murshid can muster three ships, with over a hundred—"
The commander glared.
"A hundred what?" he snarled. "Three-to-one odds, you're talking about—four-to-one, at best. Murshid's rascals against—those?"
The lieutenant grimaced. "Well—"
The commander brushed the idea aside, as a man might brush away flies.
"Forget it. Murshid wouldn't thank us afterward, believe me. And what would our cut be—a barrel of guts? Two barrels?"
Looking back at them from the stern of his vessel, the captain of the merchant ship decided he was reading the posture of the Malwa officers properly. The distance was great, but he had very good eyes. And much experience.
Satisfied, he turned away. "We can relax," he said to his own lieutenant. "There'll
"Should we notify Murshid and his men? There's a fortune in that nobleman's chests. And his wife's young. Pretty, too, probably. She and the other women would bring a good price."
The commanding officer stroked his beard, considering the question. He and his officers made a tidy profit, on the side, selling information on lucrative targets to the local pirates.
He did not ponder the matter for very long.
"No," he said firmly. "Not with that escort."
"There weren't more than thirty of them," argued his lieutenant. "Murshid can muster three ships, with over a hundred—"
The commander glared.
"A hundred what?" he snarled. "Three-to-one odds, you're talking about—four-to-one, at best. Murshid's rascals against—those?"
The lieutenant grimaced. "Well—"
The commander brushed the idea aside, as a man might brush away flies.
"Forget it. Murshid wouldn't thank us afterward, believe me. And what would our cut be—a barrel of guts? Two barrels?"
Looking back at them from the stern of his vessel, the captain of the merchant ship decided he was reading the posture of the Malwa officers properly. The distance was great, but he had very good eyes. And much experience.
Satisfied, he turned away. "We can relax," he said to his own lieutenant. "There'll