Chapter 34

Standing near the bow of the ship with his hand on the rigging, Hook briefly let his eyes close as he took a deep inhale of the salt smell carried by the wind tousling his hair. His footing always felt sturdier on the boards of the deck as it rolled over the waves than they ever did on solid land. This was where he could stand firm and breathe easily. He took the moment to relish his return to his ship, his eyes opening upon the expanse of the ocean and horizon before him.

Unfortunately, it was not enough to fully lift his spirits. It had taken them far longer that morning than he'd been content with to embark, despite his many reiterations of his impatience to set sail. Neither Emma nor Baelfire had contributed to the delay, of course. It was entirely due to Pinocchio's actions that they'd been unable to draw anchor until the sun had lifted well into the sky. It had not served to cultivate any fondness for the man. While Hook might understand a son's desire to bid his father farewell if that father were a good one, he was of the opinion that the prior evening would have been the ideal time to do so, rather than cooling their heels and waiting for the elderly man to arise.

Gently, Emma's hand came to rest on his arm. When he turned to view her face, she had a raised brow and a soft smile. "You're glowering," she informed him. "What are you stewing over?"

He softened at her appearance and touch, but his brow remained furrowed with frustration. "We should have been underway hours earlier than we were. We lost valuable time this morning due to this new addition of ours. I don't like him."

"Oh?" She feigned surprise, and her smile slipped into a smirk. "Are you worried about being late for something? I didn't know we were on a deadline."

Hook resisted rolling his eyes at the prodding only because it came from her. "That's not my point. He clearly does not respond well to orders, and that gives me great reservations as to his usefulness aboard."

Emma glanced behind them, no doubt checking the location of their conversation's subject. He stood well astern of them, hovering behind Smee, who stood at the helm. "We need him for now. We don't have anyone else who can lead us to the Resistance camp, so this is who we're stuck with until we get there. We can decide then whether or not he's worth the trouble. Besides, every ship needs a carpenter or they'll find themselves in trouble sooner rather than later, right?"

She was right, of course, but he wasn't happy about it. "Let's hope he actually has the skills he claims to, should they become necessary," he grumbled. "We've yet to see any demonstration. Whether or not the man is capable of stating his falsehoods outright, I'm not keen on taking him at his every word. I am absolutely itching for an opportunity to test him."

Patting his arm, she leaned her head over to rest it on his shoulder, gazing out toward the ocean with him. "Careful what you wish for," she cautioned. "But those opportunities will always come."

That was true, and it was only a couple days later that they encountered their first one. The morning's light fog carried a brisk chill, but O'Sullivan's voice rang clearly down from the crow's nest as he announced the sighting of a ship. With the low visibility, Hook was unable to determine with full certainty which flag she flew, even through the magnification of his trusty spyglass. However, her lines were familiar to him and he could hazard a good guess where she hailed from. If he was right, she was fair game.

"Smee," he barked the command, though the boatswain at the helm was hardly an arm's length away. "Make our approach. I want a better look at her."

"Hoist the colors, sir?" Smee asked in response.

"Not yet. Not until I've gotten a better view of hers."

"Aye aye, sir."

His suspicions were confirmed quickly. They had barely closed any of the distance when the wind stirred the mist in such a way to create a gap of clarity. Sure enough, the flag she flew was that of King George. While they were currently attempting to remain beneath the notice of the Evil Queen, Hook saw no reason to resist the temptation to thumb his nose at his former liege. His decision made, he felt the preparatory thrill of adrenaline rush through his body and he grinned with anticipation. "Now, Mr. Smee. The colors."

"Colors high!" Smee relayed the command toward the rigging in a shout, and whoever was up there obeyed instantly.

Hook's enthusiasm for battle surged as he watched the crimson flag unfurl, snapping open in a rush of air above them. "Men to your stations!" He ordered. All his longstanding crew dutifully leaped into action. His eyes fell then on Pinocchio, whose feet had planted staunchly on the deck, but not in fear. The look on his face was one of a predatory glee, his hand already fondling the pommel of the sword at his side. The sight sent a chill over the back of Hook's neck, though he knew it was one he frequently wore himself – or perhaps because of that. He knew then that the man would either be a great asset to have beside him in a fight, or a liability that could not be left unsupervised. Either way, he should be kept close.

Down by the lower hatch, Emma was hesitating. Hook descended toward her, bounding over the last few steps of the stairway. "What's the matter?" He inquired when he reached her side. "Why aren't you getting below?"

Her chin lifted toward him. "I want to fight," she declared stubbornly.

"Excellent." His brow creased in his confusion. "That's exactly what we're about to do. My question stands. Why aren't you getting to the gun deck?"

"Because I want to actually fight. You know I've learned to handle a sword. I don't want to hide underneath anymore."

"Is that really what you think you're doing down there?" He sputtered. He'd have thought that after what had happened with Murray, she'd be less apt to see the space as a safe refuge, yet here they were. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then took a breath. "You've grown an aptitude with a blade, and if you wish to wield one today, I'll welcome it once we've boarded, but please go fire a bloody cannon first. That part still needs doing."

"It's not like I can work the thing by myself," she huffed, her hands on her hips. "I'm stronger than I used to be, but I still don't think I could push it, and especially not while I'm loading it too. I don't have Murray down there now."

It took only a heartbeat for Hook to find his solution, who was standing behind her and staring out over the railing at their target. "Baelfire!"

The man snapped to attention. "Yeah, Cap?"

"Think you can run a cannon?"

"Oh, I know I can."

"Good." He pointed his ringed finger at Emma. "Give her a hand, then. Load the chain shot, aim for the center mast. We'll leave them dead in the water." He swung his attention back toward Emma. "And once we've drawn up beside her to board, then you may abandon your post to come swing your sword above deck. Am I clear?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but she smiled slightly as well. "As crystal."

Successfully taking her by surprise, he grabbed her and pulled her close into a hard kiss, disregarding all nearby eyes. He took great pleasure at how her breath had quickened when he released her. "I love you," he reminded her.

Her smile grew. "I love you, too."

"I'll see you soon," he told her with a wink before she disappeared below.