The night was cool and crisp, a light breeze tugged at Evan's breeches as he strode the miles of slippery wooden docks. Ships of all sizes and ages towered above him as he walked, his head lost in thought. The moon was bright enough to make out their names, and he made internal notations of fitting marks which might be considered for plunder.
He chuckled to himself and thought, Maybe I am pirate material after all.
The pouch the Governor's man had given him distracted him and begged to be opened. Evan would have pulled it open right there in the moonlight but for two reasons. One: the bearded lackey had warned Evan that he would be under some kind of surveillance at all times, and Evan knew not the resources at the Governor's disposal. And two: the docks were a frothing cesspool of thieves and brigands in the daylight, never mind at night. He kept the pouch safely tucked beneath his tunic, at the waist.
A lively tune wafted through the night air into his ears, and he guessed its origin to be the brightly lit tavern on the other end of one pier. It was a ramshackle building with more tar than shingles on its roof, probably held together by generations of gull droppings, most likely. It looked big enough to safely accommodate about a dozen men, but judging by the jangling tunes and raucous laughter emanating from within he would guess closer to thirty currently occupied its smarmy innards.
Evan smiled and took a deep breath of the clean, clear breeze. Though new to the life at sea, he could already feel it calling out to him and beckoning him home to the waves. He grinned and thought, The Governor can kiss my ass.