The vote was eleven for Elara, nine for Silas, and three abstentions.
Elara turned to the quartermaster. "The Code is clear. The captain retains command. However, the challenge was lawful." She looked at Silas. "You will not be marooned. You will receive twenty lashes for striking me. And then, if you wish, you will be restored as navigator."
Elara nodded to the quartermaster, old Peg, who stepped forward and unrolled a copy of the code. "Article Four," Peg croaked. "Any man who strikes his captain in anger shall receive forty lashes. Any man who conspires to seize the ship shall be marooned on a sand cay with one pistol, one ball, and a single ration of water." pirates law
"That's where you're wrong, Silas," she said, her voice as cold as the deep ocean. "We are bound by a higher law. The only one that matters out here. The Pirate Code."
Elara ignored him. "Article Seven. The captain's word is final in battle and division of plunder. But for crimes against the crew, the captain does not judge." She looked at the gathered pirates—a motley collection of cutthroats and runaway slaves, gamblers and broken nobles. "The crew judges." The vote was eleven for Elara, nine for
"I led us into that ambush at Devil's Cove," Elara confessed. "I let my greed for Spanish gold override the caution the Code demands. Silas was wrong to strike me, but he was right to question me."
The crew had gathered in a silent, tense ring. The charge was mutiny. The captain retains command
"Because the Pirate Code is not about tyranny, Silas," Elara said, hauling him to his feet. "It's about order. Without it, we're just animals tearing each other apart. With it, we are the last free nation on the sea. And a free nation doesn't waste good men."