It was true. Foghorn had been the captain of this ship, when it was a fishing ship. But, after some simple modifications to the stationary cannons, and by reducing yards and yards of fishing net to reduce weight, it became a full-fledged pirate ship.
The cannons were easy to get used to, but the lack of fishing net was a lot to take in initially. Foghorn’s fishing enterprise was a successful one. He served as the captain of the leading ship in Pleneasia’s fishing fleet. This was under the rule of King Jacob the IV. When his eldest son Adonius (a-dOne-us) took over the throne, one of his first acts of duty was to brand Foghorn an enemy to the Empire for supposedly harboring wanted fugitives. From that point on he could no longer conduct business as usual and sailed his ship away. He still sold fish where he could, but his options were limited. The Empire seemingly had men in every city, town and village in the southern half of the world. Spies. Lookouts. People to give reports back to Pleneasia, and so he had to discreet about his operation.
“Well I’m glad you think so.”
“What?” Foghorn quandaried.
“ In good hands,” Kail enlightened him. “You said you left the ship in good hands, and I’m glad you think so.”
Though slightly irritated at his first mate’s vegetative state, he still felt a great deal of empathy. He knew something was causing him grief and hated the pained expression in his eyes. The irritation won out. “What is it Fog? Don’t just sit there feeling sorry for yourself.”
“I feel sorry for your crew!” Foghorn shot back. “You are leading these men to die.”
Kail moved his feet off of his desk and sat up straight. He folded his hands and placed them over his mouth. It was his thinking