Black Jack Smith stood in front of the two boys with a grimace. He was, in every way, an older version of his son, Bug, round and jowly, with one exception. Where Bug's hair was the color of spun gold, his father's was as black as the flag under which he sailed.

The Karakawa watched them intently, and Morrigan herself watched through it's eyes. At the mention of a welcome, it rose to its full height, which was barely as high as Gravestone's knee, on top of the stone.