Carlson scratched his ear and spat a raisin seed at a nearby extra. "They weren't goin' our way. Besides, that thousand potch you gave me only went so far. Boats is expensive!"

Lebrante had his doubts, but didn't have time to voice them at the present as a lumpish glob of a fisherman was attempting to make himself known to the passengers on his ship (for that's who Lebrante and Carlson were)

"Jes' sit yerselves down, and Cap'n Rouk will git you on over to where you need ta be." He grunted as he eased the ship away from the Radat dock. The three sailed away from land in silence until Lebrante sniffed loudly as if something unpleasant was lodged in his nose.

"I seriously doubt that you are a captain, my good man." Lebrante commented. "Or at least not the sort we had when I was a youth. They were brave men who risked their lives and that of their crew in order to secure ancient urns from shipwrecks, and rescue priceless statues from bloodthirsty natives!" The fisherman laughed.

"Oh, I'm not Cap'n Rouk. 'e's over there!" The fisherman pointed to a far away shape that looked to Lebrante like a large floating gravy boat. Lebrante removed his monocle, cleaned it off, and looked again.

"A pirate ship!?" Carlson exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I'm not going and getting myself caught. Let's fight you old relic!" He scrambled frantically for a weapon while the "fisherman" looked on with little apparent interest.

"Yes, indeed... It does appear to be a pirate ship." Lebrante observed. "We have nothing of interest to riff-raff like them though, so I would recommend that you just calm down."

The logic of one whom regularly spent weeks at a time locked inside of a dimly lit house having "Urn Sessions" wound its way through the teen-aged Carlson's brain and was promptly refuted. Digging in his pocket, Carlson found a small coin and tossed it to Lebrante.

"What is this?" Lebrante asked, turning the coin over, inspecting it.

"Twenty-five potch. Go buy a clue, Richmond! These pirate guys will kill us for the fun of it! They'll feed us to the sharks, or the lemurs, or tear out our spleens!" Catching sight of Lebrante's dropped umbrella, the boy swiftly grabbed hold of it and spun toward the still bored-looking man of the sea.

"I woun't recommend that, boy-o." the pirate growled from half-closed eyes. "All those things you just said, I've done." With a flick of his wrist, a long curved knife appeared seemingly from nowhere. Carlson stared defiantly at the pirate and sat back down. His grip on the umbrella remained tight, however. "That kind of violence will never solve anything, lad." Lebrante advised.