Mary went, albeit a bit reluctantly. His crew had become like family to her and she hated to see them in a brawl. She clung to his arm, dodging flying glasses and chairs as they made their escape from the bar.

They were staying at an inn at the end of the street, the captain and his mistress of course occupying the finest room. Once they were safely inside, Mary tended to his wound, getting a washcloth to clean the cut on his face.

"Bloody bastard should have known better than to put his hands on me. He must not be familiar with you, Captain."