Oliver gave a soft snort. It seemed someone really had entertained thoughts they never should have.
This was nothing new. The personnel taken on at the harbor were a mixed lot, and in his not particularly long career, he had seen quite a few self-important newcomers.
The ship's lax management often created an illusion, making them believe no one noticed what they did. They treated the cabins like a market they could come and go from at will, and the cargo like loose change no one had gotten around to counting.
Stupid, impatient—far too fitting of the stereotype. Several new faces surfaced in his mind. He could more or less conclude that the thief was one of them, or perhaps more than one person was involved.
He did the math for the culprit. For some stolen goods of little value and difficult to sell, they had taken enormous risks, hiding things away for a month or two in an environment with practically no private space.
Any old sailor with a brain could calculate that cost. They would never use such a method to provoke him, either.
When faced with something like this, beyond anger, he found it more laughable than anything.
He could even imagine the scene: that self-styled clever little thief waiting until everyone else had fallen asleep, feeling their way down into the hold in the dark. They did not dare touch the well-sealed silver ore, and knew they could not hide large pelts, so they hurriedly took a few things from the uncovered barrels and left.
There was every reason to believe the other party had not even decided what to take. They had merely rummaged through the surface, then guiltily tidied it up afterward. They had not paid any attention to how it had originally been