#otr1

Nassau was sickly warm, but it always was during the summer months. Licking his chapped lips he could practically taste the fresh fruit to be had, as well as the favorable company from the goods he and his crew had garnered after months at sea. ”Lay the anchor and cut the sails ya slimy currs! We’re to be makin’ berth at port by sundown!” The men scrambled quickly for their own wants and needs and without much ado, Hector was aboard a rowboat watching the island come closer. The sensation of a valuable item was burning a hole in his satchel and he was desperate to have the thing looked at, leading him to jump into the tepid waters and wade onto shore. Asking around he caught himself quickly as he nearly slammed into a man. His fingers gripped against his cutlass, only to loosen its hold when the face was recollected from the wanted posters next to his own. “Charles Vane. I believe we’ve not been givin’ each other our due introductions...”