The grizzled old sailor was sat in a corner of the smoky tavern, and as we approached, he turned his eye upon us.
"Captain Barnaby, I knew you'd come when you knew what I have. So you're interested in Mortus' map?"
The Cap'n sat down opposite, while Scarlett and I took places on either side of the table.
"That I am, mister Jenkins, although five thousand gold Royals is more than I am prepared to pay. Since you owe me your life after that unfortunate incident in Santa Isla, how about you just give me the map and we'll call your debt to me settled..."
"Ah, Cap'n, that I would, but a man has to eat after all. And with the size of Mortems treasure, five thousand is but a small price."
Scarlett had moved beside Jenkins and now slipped an arm over his shoulder, caressing his neck. In a quiet sultry voice she said, "I could do ....things....for you." Suddenly her flintlock was in her other hand, with the muzzle firmly pressed against Jenkins temple. "Or, I could do things TO you, the kindest of which would be blowing your worthless brains all over this table. So give us the map, and we'll let you keep your miserable life."
With a gulp, Jenkins reached inside his tunic and pulled forth the blood-spattered map and pushed it toward the Cap'n.
"Good boy" said Scarlett, "although I have to admit....I lied" and pulled the trigger.
-Journal Of First Mate Wilson
1705.
