They had been at sea for two months, and Kei was starting to get restless. It wasn't that she was unhappy. Far from it, she was the most well-off she could remember; she had food, shelter, employment, safety, and even friends. The crew had become, while not precisely close, familiar. In the back of her mind, she still assessed them as threats, but she had spent so much time with them, become so familiar with their ways and tells that she was confident that they were well-intentioned or, a part of her whispered, that she could handle them if that changed.
Shino, meanwhile, was also living quite well, and had become like one of the crew; he would joke with them, play the ridiculous games they invented to pass the time, and though he often looked puzzled at some of their more creative curses, he was quickly becoming accustomed to the vulgar. This was something that would likely serve him well, for though she was generally quiet, when struggling to furl a sail in a storm, Kei was learning to cuss the paint off walls.
Yet all this comfort was part of the problem; when she had faced an evil man in mortal combat, she had had felt like she was doing something she was supposed to, like she was serving justice, like she was making progress in the world. She had felt alive. But in the relative safety and comfort of the ship, she grew restless. Colors were less vivid, the air less sweet, walls more confining, and the creeping doubt and guilt was beginning to return. Little thoughts like, 'you don't deserve this good fortune' and 'you should be making the world better' are easily suppressed once, but as time goes on, they start to grind the ego down. So when, less than a month away from Beacon City, they found a another ship change its course to follow them, Kei was ready for a fight.
Unlike the last, this ship was in much better shape; Kei identified it on sight as a longship, thanks to the impromptu tutoring she had been receiving as a functional member of the crew, but unlike the previous run-down excuse for a ship, this one had complete bulwarks, a fine, whole mast, a great smooth sail and, most notably, raised mangonel platforms at the bow and stern. Those catapults could, with a well-aimed shot, easily sink the Maiden of the Salt. They tried running but, unfortunately, even with the winds in their favor, the longship had the advantage on them.
"At least they're honest pirates," commented Kei dryly, eying the Jolly Roger which had been flying from the rapidly gaining galley since it had given chase.
Rourke only grunted in response and continued to stare at the longship. "Shino," he said for the third time, "I don't suppose y' have any o' that fire magic we can use, do you?"
Shino gave an exasperated sigh. "Not from this range. Like I said, I have to be within fifteen feet."
Rourke shook his head sadly. It wasn't much longer until they were in catapult range, and everyone knew it. Minutes passed before finally Salty spoke for the first time in an hour. "Well," he said, determination in his voice, "I suppose we've got no choice then." The crew tensed; surely he had some crazy plan. He always did, from the stories the crew told about him. "Run up th' white flag; we're surrendin'."
Kei sat there, stunned. "Surrendering, captain? But-"
He held up his hand. "One good hit from them mangonels and we're done for, an' we obviously can't outrun them; from th' looks of things, they have twenty armored boarders ready, so they'd just pull alongside an' take us by force."
"But we could use false colors-"
"We can't outrun them," stressed Salty, "so false colors do us no good."
Something clicked.
Heavily armored, he says
. "How heavily armored?" Kei asked, trying and failing to keep a neutral facial expression.
Salty narrowed his eyes. "Chainmail on most, breastplates an' splint mail on a few. Why, what're you thinkin'?"
"Sir, if you can get Shino within fifteen feet, he can take care of the catapults. Using that as a distraction, I'll swing across the gap and into their rigging; if they're armored, I'll had the advantage there, and cut up as much of their sail as I can. That could buy us enough speed to escape, or at least enough of a lead to make pursuit impractical."
Salty stared at her for a good long while before laughing and clapping her on the shoulder. "I'm thinkin' that I'm statin' t' like you, lass! You heard the lady!" he bellowed, "raise th' white flag, we're doin' as she says."