Richmond stood with one hand drumming restlessly on the<span style="font-style: italic">Lady's</span>rail, while the other nervously fingered the ornate hilt of his rapier. He knew, maybe better than most, that some secerts were meant to stay burried, litterally or otherwise. First mate D'Beque's word rang ominously for Richmond.<br/><br/>"If we make it out of here alive."<br/><br/>The captain's voice rung out above the cold winds. She struck an inspiring figure in as she came down the stairs. Richmond approached her with an idea brewing. "Miss Basium. Our persuers fly Acirema colours. If we make for the city of Breskil surely they must relent. The approach of a foreign warship would certainly spark an international spectacle," proposed Richmond proudly, pleased to become of some use, and to attone for his ignoble question.