Keith then heard a noise and ran off. I didn't blame him, I just hoped that he would keep his promise to return. The next couple of hours became the loneliest of my life. Although the sun soon came up, it brought no warmth or clarity to our dark cell. The loss of the Reverend started to weigh its heaviest as the lamp on the stand had now been snuffed out. As we sat mute, all we could hear was the knocking of water against the side of the boat.

Colin began to feel sick, so the Surgeon began tending to him as best he could. This helped to keep his spirits up since it gave him a task. He lamented not being able to access his medicines. I looked over at Thorne, who still nursed his injury from the gunshot, and my heart went out to him. I hoped he would not die, to prevent another death from haunting my conscience. I offered him my relatively clean shirt, since his was soaked in blood. Thorne refused any help. He didn't want any help from me. I wondered if he regretted not joining the pirates.

Everything was quiet above deck as the hours rolled on. We heard a few of the routine noises of seafaring, but it seemed many of the pirates had returned to their sloop to rest. I guess even pirates have a limit to their carousing and need sleep. The current solitude reminded me of the book I had in my jacket pocket. When I pulled it out, my heart turned to stone. It was the Reverend's Bible. I had seen him hold and quote from it a hundred times as he ministered to our crew. I thrust it back into my jacket before anyone else could see it.

I began to spiral deeper into despair, as I thought and felt responsible for the Reverend's death. The weight of all the events of the past two days crushed me. The Surgeon asked me what was going on, but then the red-bearded quartermaster approached our brig. He came with another pirate to do his bidding. They didn't open the cell this time, and I instinctively hid the Bible from their sight.

"Surgeon, have you reconsidered your position? There doesn't seem much fortune in rotting in a cell," the Quartermaster asked.

"I'm not becoming a pirate," he simply responded.

"We thought you might say that. We have some decent food here if you think that might persuade you."

The Quartermaster signaled for the other pirate to show the wine, cheese and bread that they had pilfered from my father's quarters. I saw the Surgeon's eyes light up, but after a second of consideration, he firmly shook his head. The Quartermaster stood shocked. He looked the Surgeon up and down, wondering how a starving man could reject such high seas delicacies. He took a bite of cheese and a swig of wine, and asked again if the Surgeon would join.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't see much fortune in joining the sweet trade."

The Quartermaster looked at the rest of us and seemed disappointed. I think he expected us to look more haggard. While I was certainly hungry, Keith's hardtack kept my stomach from making the decisions that my head and heart should make.

"I will be happy to see any patients that you may have, though," the Surgeon said. "Mr. Foot can testify that I see the patient first and not the profession. You need not fear that I will use medicine to harm you. I gave my Hippocratic oath and I know you all understand oaths."

The last part of the Surgeon's speech seemed to be the key for the Quartermaster. He signaled for the other pirate to unlock the door.

"But," the Surgeon interjected, "you must allow me to bring back medicines and supplies to the brig so I can tend to the injured in here as well."

The Quartermaster hesitated but reluctantly agreed, and the Surgeon left to return to his table, giving me a wink as he left.