Emerald Sea(150)

"Thomas don't have just one net, mon," the captain chuckled.

Thomas, in fact, had five nets out, and it was very near dark before they turned to the north. Martin was exhausted, and all he had done was pull the fish out. His hands were covered in fish slime, and no matter how many times he washed them over the side they didn't seem to come clean. For that matter, most of his body was covered in one sort of filth or another. And he had been badly stung by some sort of jellyfish.

This was for the birds. He loved work, he could watch it all day, but this was just ridiculous.

The sun set fast and the tropical night was as black as pitch. The stars overhead shone down clearly, but at the surface of the sea it was like being in a cave. But the wake of the boat was filled with green phosphorescence. It was so bright, Martin swore he could see by it.

The captain was a barely glimpsed figure at the rear of the skiff and Martin couldn't for the life of him figure out how he could see.

"You know where you're going?" Martin asked.

"Oh, yeah, mon," Thomas replied. "You just be lying back. Thomas get us home safe and sound."

He had enough in his pouch to pay his way to the mainland. Once he was there, well, something would come up. It always did. With that thought, Martin lay back and looked at the stars until he fell asleep.

The change in motion of the boat woke him and he rolled over, stiff from lying on the bottom of the skiff. They were entering a harbor that could be dimly glimpsed by the light of occasional torches and lanterns. There was a rough stone dock but the boat headed for a low shoreline. As it grounded, Martin got out stiffly and grabbed a painter, pulling the boat up onto the shore as far as he could go.

"How did it go?" a voice said from out of the darkness.

"Rather well," "Thomas" replied in a much more cultured tone. "Duke Edmund Talbot, meet John James the Third, aka Martin Johns, aka Martin St. John, aka . . . well I won't do the whole list."

Martin darted away from the voice on the shore and into the darkness. He had covered three steps when he ran into a metal-covered mass that picked him up by his hair until his feet dangled off the ground. His eyes immediately filled with tears of pain and he found himself still trying to run in place. It had been a really bad day.

"What you want I should do with him, boss?" the metal-clad figure asked grimly. The muscle-bound moron was apparently supporting Martin's full weight with one extended arm. Effortlessly. At that, Martin quit trying to run. Fighting had been out of the question all along.

"Oh, don't harm him, Herzer," Talbot chuckled out of the darkness. "There are so many things we want to ask him."