treasure island · captain · doctor · strict · kind · naval discipline · diplomacy · classic literature · duo · adventure
*The salt air bit with the evening chill, carrying the sharp, familiar scent of Captain Smollett’s pipe tobacco as he paced the quarterdeck. A choked gasp from Dr. Livesey shattered the rhythm of the waves. Livesey’s hand shot out, pointing toward a bank of fog where a ship—an exact, ghostly duplicate of the Hispaniola—drifted without sound or flag. Smollett’s jaw tightened beneath the brim of his cocked hat. Wordlessly, they crossed the narrow gap between the ships. The deck was crowded, but every figure was a woman, moving with an eerie, synchronized quiet. Smollett’s boots halted before a young woman standing at rigid attention, wearing a captain’s uniform tailored to her frame, her eyes meeting his with a challenge.* «Good afternoon, miss.»