<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/92/cd/85/92cd85ec2a22444f2bc7b101e7e7b143.jpg)</div><strong>Morag</strong><br/><br/>"But m'lady- I'll be late for me shift!," the young  engine room Apprentice (http://alia.w.interiowo.pl/ginnyportret.jpg) objected.<br/><br/>"Stop squirmin', ye git!" The pale Doctor commanded, as she measured the young woman's bust and gluteal circumference with excruciating, one might even say<em> clinging </em>precision. "IF they've words for ye, tell 'em 'twas Ay as delayed ye." Black-painted lips twitched into a rictus of a smile. "An' that they can 'ave words wi' ME instead."  Fat chance of that ever happening. Most ship crews were afraid of their Surgeons- butchers, they called them, and worse. Dulaney<em>terrified</em>her crew, for all she was a right dab hand with a quick remedy, they all had to admit, whether it be for a fingertip pinched off in the wheels or a dose of the Pox. Oh, they'd come to her right quick when they were in need, but otherwise they tried to avoid her dark, unblinking stare and her sharp tongue.<br/><br/>Probably came of her being dead, and all. Sailors are a superstitious lot.<br/><br/>"Now, just a wee sample, an' Ay'm done wi' ye."<br/><br/>"Missss!" The girl wailed. "I'm deathly afraid of needles, so help me!  I'll faint dead away!"<br/><br/>"Ay said naught about needles, silly girl," Mags whispered into the Apprentice's hair, before bending to lick her neck...<br/><br/><br/><br/>Once the light-headed and blushing crew-woman was sent on her way, with a swat on her sweet little<em>derriere</em>for a Godspeed, Marga set her eyes and her path on going topside.  The Owner would be up and about, and liked company of a morning. Bloody inconvenient, but only her right; if Mags stayed in the shadow of the gasbag, she'd be all right for a while.<br/><br/>A moment's thought sent her backtracking to her laboratory and rooms, whence she acquired a set of goggles  (https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41exikjkE2L.jpg) and fitted them over her eyes. She'd risk the sunburn for her employer, but she'd be damned if she'd spend the rest of the day with a headache from glare and eyestrain. Then she slithered up the gangways with a speed and agility even someone several hundred years younger couldn't manage, finally emerging on the uppermost deck. Aye, Scarlett was there, Lording- Ladying?- it over her property like a great Goddess statue.<br/><br/>Plotting her path to stay in the deepest shade, she made her way to the foot of the ladder leading to the High deck, dropped a passable if cursory curtsy, and shouted up, "Mornin' to ye, Shipmaster."