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the mate’s while he was still alive. Now the stripped and looted room was his father’s prison cell. He did not wait for a reply, but entered.
    His father sat on the edge of the bare bunk. The stare he lifted to Wintrow’s face was an uneven one. Blood filled the white of one eye in his swollen and discolored face. Kyle Haven’s posture suggested pain and despair, but there was only acid sarcasm in his greeting. “Nice of you to recall me. I had supposed you were too busy groveling to your new masters.”
    Wintrow held back a sigh. “I came to see you earlier, but you were sleeping. I knew rest would heal you more than anything I could offer. How are your ribs?”
    “Afire. My head throbs with every beat of my heart. And I’m hungry as well as thirsty.” He made a slight motion with his chin toward the door. “Those two won’t even let me out for some air.”
    “I left food and water here for you earlier. Didn’t you …. ”
    “Yes, I found it. A gill of water and two pieces of dry bread.” There was suppressed fury in his father’s voice.
    “It was all I could get for you. There is a shortage of food and fresh water aboard. During the storm, much of the food was spoiled by saltwater … ”
    “Gobbled down by the slaves, you mean.” Kyle shook his head in disgust and then winced. “They didn’t even have the sense to know they’d have to ration food. They kill the only men who can sail the ship in the midst of a storm, and then eat or destroy half the rations on board. They are no more fit to be in charge of themselves than a flock of chickens. I hope you are pleased with the freedom you dispensed to them. It’s as like to be their deaths as their salvation.”
    “They freed themselves, Father,” Wintrow said stubbornly.
    “But you did nothing to stop them.”
    “Just as I did nothing to stop you from bringing them aboard in chains.” Wintrow took a breath to go on, then stopped himself. No matter how he tried to justify what he had done, his father would never accept his reasons. Kyle’s words nudged the bruises on Wintrow’s conscience. Were the deaths of the crew his fault, because he had done nothing? If that was so, then was he also responsible for the deaths of the slaves before the uprising? The thought was too painful to consider.
    In an altered tone he went on, “Do you want me to tend your injuries, or try to find food for you?”
    “Did you find the medical supplies?”
    Wintrow shook his head. “They’re still missing. No one has admitted taking them. They may have been lost overboard during the storm.”
    “Well, without them, there is little you can do for me,” his father pointed out cynically. “Food would be nice, however.”
    Wintrow refused to be irritated. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said softly.
    “Of course you will,” his father replied snidely. His voice lowered abruptly as he asked, “And what will you
do
about the pirate?”
    “I don’t know,” Wintrow admitted honestly. He met his father’s eyes squarely as he added, “I’m afraid. I know I have to try to heal him. But I don’t know which is worse, the prospect of him surviving and us continuing as prisoners, or him dying and us with him, and the ship having to go on alone.”
    His father spat on the deck, an action so unlike him that it was as shocking as a blow. His eyes glittered like cold stones. “I despise you,” he growled. “Your mother must have lain with a serpent, to bring forth something like you. It shames me to have folk name you my son. Look at you. Pirates have taken over your family ship, the livelihood of your mother and sister and little brother. Their very survival depends on you taking this ship back! But you don’t even think of that. No. All you wonder is if you will kill or cure the pirate whose boot is on your neck. You have not given one thought to getting weapons for us, or persuading the ship to defy him as she defied me. All the time you wasted nurse-maiding