For three days after, they were at the mercy of the storm. The Scourge was tossed from wave to wave like a toy passed between rowdy children. None of the crew, except Schleckt, slept in those days. Most of them were too busy being turned to pulp as the waves hurled them from one wall to the other to think of sleep.

Just as dawn broke on the fourth day, Martin was ready to keel over with exhaustion. His hands were black with dirt and bruises, his heart pounded in his ears like thunder, and his legs were so limp that he could barely keep himself upright.

After the ship lurched again, her bow dipping down as a wave collapsed, Martin was blinded by a light shining directly into his eyes as he rested his head against the wheel. At first, he didn't know what it was, he was too tired to care. But when the light persisted, he opened his salt-crusted lids and squinted out to find, to his unfathomable delight, that the sun was peeking from a crack on the dark horizon, the blue sky at its back, opening like an eye.

'Sky? Sky!' he shouted with glee, almost on the verge of tears. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry and his lips cracked, though he cried like a man fresh from a dream. 'I can see the sky!'

The crew lying around the deck, their hands on their heads, rose sleepily and ambled over to the bow-railing. They blinked in the morning light and then, almost in unison, they burst into light, cackling laughter.

'We made it!' cried the Bosun.

The crew cheered.

They leapt around the ship embracing each other and shouting their oaths defiantly at the grumbling storm behind them.

'Martin!' Emily dashed up the quarterdeck gangway. Her damp hair clinging to her neck, her eyes ringed with dark bags but still bright and shining.

Before Martin could fully support himself without the use of the wheel, Emily giggled and leapt into his arms, wrapping hers around his shoulders. He was too tired to comprehend how he could barely stand, so he just closed his eyes and buried his face deep in the soft curls of her matted hair.

Emily pulled away and held his arms for a moment, jumping up and down in excitement, a huge smile cracking her chapped lips.

'We did it! We made it!'

'We did.' Martin's legs gave way and he tumbled down on the deck. 'God, I'm so tired.' He let his body collapse back and he lay staring up at the sky, the last few spits of rain flecking his cheek and running down his scar into his ear.

'Me too,' Emily panted as she dropped to her knees, then toppled back, her head landing on Martin's chest. He yelped as her skull dug into his bruised rib. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.'

'It's alright,' Martin chuckled hoarsely, the pain still throbbing around his lung. He was too tired to register anything except how heavy his eyes felt. 'I could just lie here for the next year; I'd probably still feel as broken as I do now.' His elbows clicked and creaked as he lifted his hand to his forehead.

'I agree. But I'm not surprised,' Emily's eyes sparkled with life. 'We just fought the sea and won, and all we've come away with is a few bruises and a bad thirst.' When she drew attention to it, Martin's tongue dried up and sat heavy in his mouth like rough, ashy sandstone. 'We should be celebrating. I could definitely go for a bottle of wine or two right now. I might even have to steal some of that hideous grog of yours if my thirst grows any worse.'

'It hasn't got that bad yet, has it?' Martin asked, smiling to himself. 'What'll I drink?'

'I bet the hold has plenty of water in it.' Emily turned her head and looked up at him with a cheeky smile. 'You'll have to drink around all the drowned rats though. Who knows? If you ask me really nicely, I might share a little of my wine with you,' Emily giggled.

Martin tried to laugh with her but his throat gave in half way, descending into a coarse barrage of rasping coughs. He patted his chest to help ease them out, then as they settled, he rested his head on the deck again and followed Emily's gaze back up at the sky. The dark clouds had been chased away by deep blue ebbing into azure.

'I tell you what, though. When you get home to your father, you could start reading him to sleep with your own stories. You have a few now. Won't that be something?'

'Yes.' She shared a half-smile with herself, her eyes drained of that lively sparkle. 'Yes, that would be something. Martin, can I ask you a question?' She rested her ear on his midriff and looked up at him over his chest.

'Sure, anything.'

'What...do you think you'll do after all this?' she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.

'What do you mean?

'Well, when we arrive in Barbados, and I've delivered the cylinder, and... our journey ends, what will do you?'

'Keep sailing, of course,' Martin stared down at her, watching the soft coils of her copper hair dry and spring from her head. 'What else can I do? The Scourge needs a crew and we have a war to win.'

'I know that,' Emily cut in. 'But, say if for some reason the war ended. What would you do with yourself?'

Something about the question struck him as strangely insistent, so for a few moments all he could do was open and close his mouth.

'I... I-I don't know. I've never really thought about it. I've got no other loyalty than to this ship and her captain. If we stopped sailing, I don't know what I'd do. I'd probably go back to being a street urchin. Or worse, I'd be nabbed by press gangs and forced to join the Navy or the merchants. Stuck aboard a ship with no freedom and no adventure. I'd... become just another nobody again.'

Emily's smile faded. She turned on her back to face the sky again.

'That's what I thought.'

'W-why do you ask?'

'No reason. It's nothing. Forget it.'