[Arry]

Curiouser and curiouser . . . Bahir’s eyes narrowed as he made his way from the rowing galley hatchway across the top-deck. He was bound for his perch on the main mast, having been given instructions by one of the mates that the tear in the topsail needed repair. What’s this? An unfamiliar set of legs and raggedy clothes was just disappearing around the corner of the captain’s quarters. And where had he glimpsed those sweat hardened clothes? Just recently, he thought.

The man on the stairs . . . yes, that was a possibility. One of the rowers had slipped his shackles off, somehow. Brave little mouse – to play so dangerous a game while the Cat was away. Bahir’s brows rose; he gave a half smile. But then who was he to condemn another’s . . . adventure? And perhaps he could turn the man’s intentions to his own use.

Bahir shouldered a small cask from one of the lashed piles on the deck. For all intents and purposes he looked the part of someone delivering something somewhere as ordered. His head was down and he trudged along . . . just Boy, on some errand, they would think.

He slipped into the shadows afforded by the overhanging eaves of the captain’s cabin and sat down the cask he carried. He wiped at his face with his sleeve, his eyes darting about for any who might be watching. Assuring himself there were none, he darted around the edge of the cabin, just in time to see the man he was following, standing before the captain’s door. The man grimaced as he gazed at the locked entry way.

And did he think that the great Corsair ship’s master would leave his door open for all to visit as they wished?

A multitude of thoughts scrambled in the young man’s head. He could turn this to his advantage and be rid of the one token of his trespass. Bahir stepped forward, making a small sound so as to draw the man’s attention. He looked carefully at the fellow and then at the door. From a fold in his turban, he pulled out the key he had so recently used. And bending down, he slid it in a quick motion toward the man.

It clattered over the wooden decking coming to stop at the man’s feet. Bahir rose up and nodded toward the door, his face breaking into a conspiratorial smile. ‘Friend . . .’ he whispered, he eyes crinkling with amusement. ‘Good hunting!’

He did not stay to see what the man had planned. He did not wish to know. Bahir hurried back to where he’d left his little barrel and carried it with him to the main mast, leaving it there as he climbed nimbly up pole and onto the riggings at the top.