Cappin Hargraves was an old seadog saltier than the ocean he sailed and twice as furious. His parents, with an abundance of optimism and severe shortage of tact, had named him with all the pride that parents feel for their children and hope for his future. But despite his name, Cappin had never made more than coxswain on the trawling merchant barges that dredged the stonereef bay, and with grey about the temples and milk starting to swirl in his eyes it was unlikely he’d rise any higher before the sea closed cold iron teeth on him.