It would have been nice to show himself around a little further. But duty calls. They'd already overstayed in port. Much longer and the crew would become lazy or rebellious, and that meant he would have to reinforce discipline, which meant in turn that he'd have to find new bodies to replace those that were inevitably lost.
He swung by the Brotherhood Yards and spoke with the foreman, a dour Mechanist in a leather greatcoat and goggles. For all the mystery of his profession, the man looked harried. Mordecai ratified the bill for repairs made and checked to ensure that spares had been delivered to the Dawnhawk's Mechanist in case of an emergency. He took care not to intimidate the man too much. It behooved him to have a cordial relationship with the people who made sure his ship flew.
He climbed out to the stair-step pier of the Skydocks where the Dawnhawk was moored. Reaching it, he stopped a moment to regard her. A ball of warm pride grew in his belly as he took in her shining skysails and clean, dark hull. She sat anchored on the highest pier of the dock, latest and best of the air-borne marvels of the Brotherhood.
The ship was Natasha's, but he was the one that ran it. In a ritual he performed whenever he approached, he compared the Dawnhawk to the other airships, just so he could find them lacking. They certainly flew well enough, and would be worth a fortune to any nation on the Western Continent. Yet beside the Dawnhawk they were pitiful and outdated. Mordecai did not consider himself a petty man, but the ship was his passion, and his position on it a singular point of pride.
His eyes alighted on the last and lowest of the moored skyships, old Euron's boat, the Copper Queen. That brash idiot was right. What a garbage scow. Dismissing it, Mordecai walked down the pier to an assortment of crates and barrels stacked below the Dawnhawk, which the crewman he'd left to keep watch were hauling up onto the deck. Konrad Faust, ship's navigator, spied Mordecai and strode to the gangplank above him. Like all airship navigators the man was an aetherite, capable of conjuring forth strange magics from the invisible daemon he carried with him.
"Almost loaded," Konrad called down, voice clouded by the thick accent of his native Greisheim. The aetherite was stocky, and as he spoke the shaggy blond beard he wore danced like a scruffy bush in a windstorm. Mordecai didn't like Konrad. But he acknowledged the man's utility, even if he was dangerous and a little unstable. It was a pity that the rarity of such individuals didn't leave much room to be choosey.
"Good," Mordecai replied. "You've got until first light to get things shipshape. Captain will want to rise with the dawn."
"We be ready," affirmed Konrad, blue eyes crinkling. The man sounded affable. He must have sated his daemon recently. "We plan on being gone awhile? Why so much food this time? It's packed oddly too. Captain thinking of a little smuggling?"
Mordecai raised an eyebrow. Salt-beef, hardtack, black powder, and fresh water? The goods order hadn't been exceptionally larger than usual. He turned and called a pair of deckhands, waving them over with the crate they'd just hoisted. "Set it down," he said. "I want to get a look inside." They nodded and dropped the load before him. Mordecai retrieved a nearby pry bar and levered the top up. Rows of packed biscuits lay tightly within. Hardtack.
He frowned slightly. Another man might feel foolish. He did not. It was always better to be safe, and perhaps a little paranoid, than to be sorry. The pirates of Haventown were a cutthroat bunch; it was never a good idea to think oneself immune to some sort of sabotage, regardless of one's reputation. "Get it aboard," he said to the crewmen. They scurried to obey. He turned back to Konrad. "The cargo's fine. Now quit dawdling."
"I didn't say it wasn't!" The navigator turned away in a huff to yell at another crewman.
Mordecai set his mouth in a line. None of the other crew would ever dare to respond to him that way. But the navigator was erratic, half-mad. There was no point in following it further, for now. One last task needed tending to, and he turned away from the ship, making his way back down to Haventown from the Skydocks.
As first mate he had many responsibilities. Foremost was to be the captain's strong right hand, doling out punishment and keeping ship's discipline so that she could get on with the job of captaining. Second was to care for the ship itself, and Mordecai always made sure the vessel was as well-stocked and in good repair as any in the Perinese Royal Navy. Thirdly, he did what he could to improve the prospects of the ship and crew.
This last he attended discreetly. Haventown was a pirate town and den of smugglers. All the things that pirates brought in from their raids filtered back out through the factors and fences to the black markets of the Western Continent. In return, gold and other goods filled the coffers of Haventown, along with things of more intangible value. Rumors and classified information were traded throughout the town, just as valuable as any other commodity.