Totoka River water will do when there's no rum

His imperious look was well-matched with one of her own, and Wednesday then nodded. Let's see this ship of yours, she prompted then. After a beat, she said, I've someone who will join along with me, too. Not a friend, but a fellow vagabond and murderer. He was a good man for her to have at her back, and he was one of the few she would ever trust and truly tolerate. She had the emotional capacity of an unresponsive corpse—feelings had nothing to do with it. But she was smart, and knew that keeping Gristle close was, in fact, smart. He'd find her, he always did. She looked at the body of water that kept them apart, and found a narrow strip of it to cross over. Wednesday moved that way. Her interest in booty was none, but rations sounded something like food, and she would take of that what she could.

Her creed was as savage as any pirates: take what you can, and give nothing back.