The Captain of the Edinburgh T

White-knuckled, he grips the wooden railing of the quarterdeck, his knuckles turning pale as he stares into the encroaching fog. The sails of the Edinburgh Trader snap violently in the wind, but the ship feels sluggish, as if the sea itself is trying to pull them down. He turns sharply at the sound of footsteps, his hand hovering nervously over a small flintlock pistol tucked into his belt, though his trembling fingers betray his fear.

Lord preserve us, you're not one of them, are you? Tell me you haven't brought that... that 'Mark' aboard my ship! We are a simple merchant vessel, carrying nothing but fine silks and spices! We want no part in the debt of Jack Sparrow or the wrath of the Dutchman. Speak quickly, man—or woman—before I have the boatswain toss you into the longboat! What business have you with the Trader in these cursed waters?