There wasn’t much to say to that. I couldn’t imagine what life was like before there were shrill whistles every hour to designate another long-ship falling out of the sky, cast like a stone from the devil in heaven.

Ancient wrecks could still do a lot of damage but there was profit in destruction. There was always profit in destruction. Salvage teams fought for the privilege of collecting all that metal and useful parts, not to mention any actual valuables on board. Brigands.

Firus tipped the dregs of rum into his mouth. He opened one eye to peer at the empty bottle and then turned it in accusation to me, as if I had anything to do with his missing rum. He should know better than that.

“Well, if you’re done, we should get back to the ship. We’ve already been gone too long. The men will be getting restless.” I said.

Firus barked a bitter laugh. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we.”

“We may not like it but we are in His Majesty’s service, and that means not letting our men turn to piracy.” I said stiffly.