She chose this moment now to toss Mortimer across the kitchen and into a counter, upon which were stacks of dirty pans.
“Oof!” Mortimer cried as the pans crashed to the floor.
Oof
“Now look at what you did! You mischievous flirt!” He looked at the mess around him fearfully, for he knew that the illiterate chap that they called Killgrew possessed a rather surly temper and the galley was due to be clean hours ago. Mortimer was quite capable of cleaning, but he had decided long ago that it was rather beneath a captain to be scrubbing the inside of a ship.
Mortimer had been raised with the privilege of the upper class: He had been well taken care of by his servants and had essentially never been plagued with responsibility. He was free to build his bottle boats and wander to wherever hi
