Boah knew better than to test the captain’s orders, especially ones so specific and simple. He had already filled the quota of 50 passengers, so he hardly noticed the tall pale man who blocked his return to the ship.
He was about to push past when he heard the man’s voice. Calm and collected. “Passage. Please.” It was always calm and collected, and Boah would recognize it anywhere. Boah had learned so much from that voice. He had become the only man to last more than six months as first mate of the Inscrutable thanks to what that voice had taught him. Now, though, after all those years, the “please” wasn’t just polite. It was also desperate.
His teacher was now a pale ghost of the man Boah had once known, but he was still bolstered by the strength that he had once taught. This reminded Boah that he had been taught to do more with that strength than help the captain fleece the masses escaping this island hell. He gestured toward the ship. “We’ll make room for one more.”