Margaret

He dangled from the yardarm in the dark, a nearly hanged man kept alive by the reek of Cooky’s grub rising from the galley where twenty mutineers cried for more bacon as they enjoyed the last of the rum. Soon, he knew, the poisoned meat would do away with his troubles, except for the cook, a dratted vegetarian whose loyalty to any captain lay only in his inability to navigate the way home.